La Vie est Merveilleuse
by CJSeaborn1800
Summary: Erik tries to take his own life, but his plans don't go as he intended and he is shown his life was not worthless.Based on the Kay book. PLEASE RandR!
1. The Note

_Aristotle praised knowledge as the highest form of happiness; I can tell you now that he is a damn fool. _

_Brilliance yes, I was given that but it is no blessing. I would rather have been a simple minded fool; now I am just a fool. Life made a fool of me. Yes, I could understand and excel at any concept you handed to me, but what good did that ever do me or anyone else? _

_All my knowledge has resulted in only one absolute truth; I will never be happy because I will never have the love of a woman, of anyone at all. _

_Life is no good to me; it offers me nothing. After years of trying to belong or form some kind of connection I am left with nothing. My brilliant mind can only come to one conclusion…It would have been much better had I simply been smothered to death at birth. _

With that Erik finished his suicide note. Not that he believed anyone would ever read it, he just felt that on the off chance Nadir should come down and find him he should know exactly why he had done it. He had always seemed to care so much about Erik's affairs.

For one last time, Erik took up his needle. Morphine, always his great friend and enemy, would now serve to release him for one last time…slipping the surly bonds of earth.

Injection. His doses of the drug had become so increased as of late that he needed a lot to cause the desired affect. But he had more than enough.

Erik closed his eyes and slumped down at the small table in the dinning room in the house by the lake. No ceremony; no coffin or candles…he didn't care for any of those things. They meant nothing. He deserved no memorial; no one would remember him, no one would ever miss him.

Or then again…


	2. Angel

"Erik! Wake up!"

His eyes snapped open; was he dead? Was this the beginnings of hell?

"Erik!"

His head turned and he saw something he was sure he would never see. His intelligence failed him and he stared at the creature that had manifested itself in front of him.

"Erik? Are you listening to me?"

What he saw was an angel. He blinked to make sure he wasn't wrong. But there she was; tall and all in white. A glowing presence surrounded her and lit the oppressive darkness of the small house by the lake.

Her hair was as black as jet and from her back spread two large, magnificent wings of pure white. And her face…Erik had never seen anything as beautiful as her face. She looked as though she had been kissed my Apollo; pale pink cheeks and fresh pure skin. Her eyes…Erik must have stared into them for a full three minutes. Blue and green and so bright!

"Erik, are you paying attention to me?"

The creature speaks! Erik had never heard a voice more exquisite. Erik had also never been spoken to by such an unearthly beauty. He hardly new what to say, he could only stare into her bright eyes. And she looked right back at him; Erik knew he was not wearing a mask. And yet the creature looked right at him, at his misshapen lips and twisted skin, without the slightest show of revulsion.

"Erik, for the last time, are you listening to me?"

Her beautiful arms were folded across her chest and she showed signs of being perturbed. Erik had not known angels could be perturbed; but he understood. No doubt this elegant creature resented being sent to deal with such an unworthy monster as him.

"Am I dead?" Erik asked at last.

"Ah so you do have a voice!" The angel said, her beautiful bright eyes narrowed, "No you are not dead, not yet,"

"Then…what are you doing here?" Erik asked her, still staring at her in amazement.

"I am here because of this," The angel came forward and took up Erik's suicide note, "Better off killed at birth! What a mad thing to say!"

For the first time Erik's eyes hardened against the lovely creature in front of him.

"It is only the truth," Erik responded solemnly.

"You think so?" The angel smiled at him. Erik was still staring at her face as though he had never seen one before, and he noted her expression. It was as though she knew absolutely everything in the world; yet she would only be willing to tell so much.

"I know so," Erik said, "What good has my life ever been?"

The angel smiled. It was such a beautiful sight it almost made Erik want to cry. The slight perturbed attitude completely disappearing she moved toward the broken man. She laid her white hand on his shoulder. He stared at it as though no one had ever touched him before.

"Let me show you," She said kindly.


	3. Madeleine

Erik didn't know what had happened. He hadn't felt anything or seen anything, but suddenly he was not where he had been. The dark room he had chosen for his last moments on earth was gone.

Instead Erik found himself standing in a pleasant living room. It was modestly decorated; nothing fancy or overtly expensive. As Erik studied it he realized he had seen it before. This had been his home as a child! This was where he grew up!

"How did we get here?" Erik asked in amazement. He was familiar with magic tricks, but he knew it was all slide of hand and illusions. Never had he come across any trick which would allow him to travel though space as he must just have done!

The angel smiled, "Have a little faith Erik; it will take you a long way,"

Erik moved around the living room, memories flooding back to him, "This was our sofa! I used to climb on it and make my mother so angry! And this! This statue! I made it talk once!" He looked at it, "I never thought I would see these things again!"

He wasn't sure if he was happy or sad or bitter to be back in the place where he had grown up. It held many horrible memories for the poor man. But it was home, he did remember this place as _feeling_ like home once…feeling safe once.

At that moment Erik saw something else he recognized. His mother walked into the room. It was her…it had to be! Erik remembered her face very well. She had been a beautiful young woman when she had become a mother and a widow. Erik noted that she was beautiful now as he looked at her…but how was that possible?

"Mother?" Erik asked.

"She can't hear you Erik," The angel appeared beside him and spoke gently, "This is a world where you don't exist Erik…this is what would happen if you had died at birth,"

Erik blinked. He had thought he was an intelligent man, but all this was making him feel as though he were nothing more than a confused child.

"Just watch Erik," The angel said, and Erik noted that her voice sounded very sad. To see something so glorious and to hear something so beautiful sound so tragic broke Erik's heart.

Erik did as the angel commanded him. He watched his mother walk listlessly toward the kitchen. Erik noticed that she kept her hand over her stomach. Erik watched in stunned silence as his mother reached for some bottles in the cupboards.

She put a bottle down on the counter and suddenly her melancholy demeanor shattered. Still with one hand over her stomach she covered her face with the other and began weeping uncontrollably. Her small frame shook with tears to such a point that she actually collapsed onto the kitchen floor.

"Mother," Erik muttered, coming toward her and trying to help her to her feet. To his dismay he found he could not touch her.

"Remember Erik," The angel reminded him, "You don't exist; you can't help her,"

"Why is she crying!" Erik said, and he knew he would have yelled in anger but he found he could not yell at the beautiful angel.

"She just lost her whole family Erik," The angel explained in a calm, easy voice that sounded like pure gold, "Her husband died, and now her son, she has nothing left,"

Erik's attention turned back to his mother. She had begun to control her sobs now and she lifted herself off the floor. She was gasping for breath and still shaking as she grabbed a glass, the bottle…and a small vial.

"No," Erik said as he recognized what the vial was for, "No! She couldn't possibly," Erik whorled to face the angel.

Her lips curled in a small, sad smile, "Just watch Erik,"

"But why!" Erik cried, "She has nothing to be so sad about! She is free! There is no need!"

The angel said nothing more however and Erik turned back to his mother.

"Don't," Erik pleaded with her as she sat, trembling, at the kitchen table.

Erik and his mother had never been on loving terms. In the beginning she had been so afraid and ashamed of her son she had tried to push him away by ignoring him. But there had been love there, buried deep down. She had never allowed her son to be taken away and studied as their doctor had suggested. And in the end, just before Erik had run away, she had been prepared to try and be the mother she knew she should be.

All Erik had ever wanted was love from his mother and her happiness. Everything he had ever done, making the statue talk and more or less hypnotizing his mother, it had all been an attempt at making her happy.

He had known she had always wanted the perfect son, so Erik had found a way to throw his voice and make it seem as though a small statue in their house was actually a real baby his mother could love. The effect in the end had not given her the happiness Erik had intended.

He had thought his death might do that. Clearly he had been wrong.

"Don't," Erik begged her, ignoring the fact that she couldn't hear him, "Please you don't have to do this! I'm gone! You can live your life! You can do whatever you wish!"

Oblivious to her son's pleas, the poor woman poured herself a glass of blood red wine. Into it she dropped, with a shaking hand, the poison from the vial.

"I'm so sorry Charles," She apologized to her dead husband, "And my poor son…I'm so sorry!" She cried hysterically and she downed the liquid in the glass.

"No! no!" Erik found he was crying now as well. He had wished he had never been borne so everyone else's lived could be better! Not this! He wanted to say more…he wanted to say something, but no words escaped his mouth. It was too much! There were simply too many emotions raging in him to pick one to vocalize.

Erik watched as his mother began to choke, her pretty young face turned pale as the life drained out of her. And then there was no more. Erik screamed in anguish.

"WHY DID YOU SHOW ME THIS!" Erik's reservations about showing anger toward the angel were gone.

The angel raised her perfect eyebrows and stared him down with her glowing, astonishing eyes, "You wished this fate upon yourself," she said, calm in the face of Erik's rage, "You said everyone would be better off if you had been killed at birth,"

"Well I didn't know THIS would happen!" Erik cried, "How could this happen! She had no reason to take her life! Not with me gone!"

"No Erik," the angel explained gently, "With you gone, she had nothing left! She felt she had let down her whole family! Even though she saw you at birth…and she saw your face, once she knew you were dead it broke her heart…she saw your death as her complete failure,"

"She once told me," Erik said angrily through gritted teeth, "That I had ruined her life! That she wished I was dead! This is what she wished for!"

To Erik's surprise the angel looked as though she might laugh, "You were never told to be careful what you wished for Erik?" The angel shook her head, "Your mother said many cruel things to you, but they all came from anger…not from what she truly felt in her heart,"

The angel's words did nothing to make him feel better. Erik looked miserably at the once beautiful, vivacious woman, "I guess I was wrong then," He said coldly, "I should have wished I had never even existed,"

The angel gave Erik another sad smile, "You are going to be difficult aren't you?"

Erik said nothing. He simply stared at the lifeless form of his mother slumped over the table. Erik and the angel stood in silence for a few moments before there was a knock at the front door.

"Who is that?" Erik asked, his voice heavy with the torment of what he had just seen.

The angel made no reply. There was no need, for a second later he recognized the voice of Marie, his mother's only friend who had not abandoned her after the birth of her child.

"Madeleine!" Marie called her friend's name through the door, "Madeleine let me in! I haven't seen you in days! Please you're scaring me!"

There were a few more moments of silence in which Marie found the hidden spare key and unlocked the front door. Then Erik heard Marie's footsteps coming toward the kitchen.

Erik almost wanted to look away; he didn't want to see Marie when she found that his mother was dead. However he couldn't tare his eyes away.

When Marie entered the kitchen Erik watched her face turn white as a ghost. Horrified Marie rushed to her friend's side and tried to shake her.

"Madeleine! Madeleine!" She said, her voice displaying a kind of controlled hysteria, "Be asleep, be sleeping!" Erik heard her whisper.

And then her eyes found the glass, the wine, and the small vial. Marie knew her friend was dead.

Instead of backing away in revulsion of the fact that she was touching a dead woman, Marie fell to her knees next to her friend. She threw her head over Madeleine's back and her arms circled her. She closed her eyes and wept for the loss of the woman she cared for so much, her race ruddy with tears.

"I don't want to watch this anymore," Erik said in a low voice, turning to face the angel.

"Yes, I think you have seen enough of this," The angel smiled at him. Erik felt a jolt go though his body; something about watching that beautiful angel smile made him happy, even now.


	4. Marie

With the same speed and suddenness as the first time, Erik found himself standing in a completely different room. It was not one he recognized in the least.

"You mean to show me more?" Erik asked the angel, "I thought you said that I had seen enough,"

"You have seen enough of your mother," The angel replied.

"Where are we now?" Erik asked reluctantly. After the horror of the first scene, he had no desire to see more.

"Just watch Erik, that is what I brought you here for,"

Erik supposed that there was no arguing with angels. He turned his attention back to the room he was now standing in. It was dark; another living room of another middle class home. Everything was very orderly, neat, and clean.

His attention immediately went to the fireplace. There was a small fire going in it now. Something about the small, crackling flames in the dark room was quite depressing instead of cozy as most fires are.

In front of the fire a woman sat in a chair knitting something. Erik watched her; her hands worked clumsily and she often stopped, as though she had much more on her mind than knit one pearl two.

Erik walked toward her. He supposed that was what the angel wanted him to do. As he saw the face of the woman he almost gasped in shock.

It was Marie yes; the woman who had been his mother's greatest friend, but it was not the same Marie he remembered. It looked as though ten years had passed since he had seen her in the scene with him mother. Her normally round, pleasant face was sallow and stretched.

Moreover, her right eye was circled with a huge black and blue ring. Erik's eyes moved to her hands. Some of her fingers looked crooked, as though they had been broken.

Erik's heart ached as it never had before. This woman above all others had showed him kindness and caring. She had always looked out for him and stood up for his well being.

Erik remembered vividly on his fifth birthday he had come to the "party" his mother had made for him without his mask on. This had been before he had learned why his mother always insisted that he wear one.

The "party" for his birthday had only consisted of his mother and Marie. He remembered coming down and into the kitchen. Marie had been the first to see him. Her face had gone white, but she had controlled herself. She had greeted him and wished him happy birthday, telling him he looked very handsome in his new suit. Through all of his lonely, dark years Erik never forgot her kindness.

"What is this?" Erik asked the angel wearily. She made no reply; Erik knew all he could do was watch.

Bang! The front door shot open.

"Marie!" A rough voice called.

When the door had opened Marie had nearly jumped out of her skin. She abandoned her knitting and took a few steps away from the fire. But then the owner of the rough voice entered the room.

He was a tall, bald man with broad shoulders and rough hands. His eyes were small and dark, almost black. And at the moment these black probes were livid.

"Marie! What are you doing in here?" He growled.

"D-darling," She stuttered, her face plainly terrified, "Dinner _is_ ready, all I have to do is warm it,"

"ALL you have to do?" the man yelled, "ALL you have to do is see that dinner is ready when I come home! That is your only God damn job woman! Why the hell is that so hard for you to understand!"

"B-but d-dinner is r-ready," Marie struggled to speak, "p-please j-just give me a minute--!"

"Listen you little bitch," The man advanced on her, "I provide everything for you! This house! Those clothes! All I ask from you is that you have food on the table when I come home and keep this place clean!"

He was yelling so loudly it was no wonder that Marie was cowering in front of him. She was trying to back away as he advanced but it seemed fear had rooted her to the spot.

"What the hell is this?" The man picked up the knitting Marie had thrown down on her chair, "What is this supposed to be?"

"It's-s a l-little sock," Marie said in a pathetically small voice.

"Who the fuck for!" The man said, "You never gave me any children you barren wench!" With a crack he drew his hand back and slapped Marie across the face. Erik saw her flinch and he shuttered.

"Bastard!" Erik growled at the man, "Don't you dare touch her! I'll kill you!" Erik yelled at the top of his lungs, "I'll kill you for that!"

Of course neither the man nor Marie heard his threat. The man continued with his torment of poor Marie.

"What the fuck is it going to take for you to learn! You failed at becoming a mother! You failed at pleasing me! You are a complete failure Marie!" With that the man drew the poker that had been in the fire out with his hand. Without any reservations the man hit Marie across the face again with the poker.

The extreme pain of the blow knocked Marie to the ground, writhing in anguish.

"I'm leaving, Isabelle is expecting me," the man said in disgust, dropping the poker beside Marie on the floor. His heavy footsteps went down the hall and then finally disappeared until the only sound in the house was Marie's sobs.

Erik could hardly see the form of Marie convulsing on the floor and holding her face because his own eyes were so filled with tears. Why did such a kind woman have to suffer such a cruel fate?

"Poor Marie," The angel said, coming up beside Erik, "You see, she was always a shy, caring woman…the only time she ever showed any real backbone was when she stood up for you,"

Erik turned to face the angel as she spoke, "Without the strength she gained from fighting with your mother for your wellbeing, she didn't possess the strength to say no when her parents arranged this marriage for her,"

"Does he…will he kill her?" Erik asked the angel sorrowfully.

The angel's eyes filled with sadness and Erik nodded, "There is nothing I can do for her?"

"There is one thing," The angel said, a small smile played on her perfect rosy lips, completely contrasted by the sadness in her eyes, "You could live,"

Erik made no reply. Instead he crouched down beside Marie. She was crying softly and holding her burned face.

"I know you can't hear me," Erik said, his voice breaking as he cried and spoke, "But I want you to know I never forgot how good you were to me and to my mother," Erik whipped his eyes, "And it I wish I could stop your pain, I really wish I could,"

The angel watched him. She knew everything about him, she knew every detail of his life and she knew the pain he had suffered. She felt more sorrow for him than she had ever felt for any creature of earth.

As Erik cried over Marie, the angel came near. Erik made no attempt to hide his tears as he turned toward her and watched her.

In the most elegant and graceful move Erik had ever seen the angel extended a pure white hand over Marie. The angel touched her face where she was burnt. Almost immediately Marie stopped holding her cheek, the pain disappearing.

Not paralyzed by the injuries she had suffered anymore, Marie managed to pick herself up off the floor. Shaking still from the terror of the encounter with her husband, Marie walked out of the living room. Erik and the angel did not follow.

"What did you do?" Erik asked the angel.

"I made the pain lessen for the time," The angel replied.

"You mean you can affect these people?" Erik asked, and he felt anger rising, "If you can do that then why didn't you stop him from hitting her! Why didn't you stop my mother from killing herself!"

"I can't change the course of events Erik," The angel explained, "I can reduce pain…but that is all,"

"Then what good are you!" Erik bellowed, frustrated, "What good is any of this if it cannot be helped!"

"It can be helped," The angel said sharply. Erik was surprised at the tone the angel had suddenly taken. It seemed as though the angel to was becoming frustrated, for hadn't she already explained exactly how all this could be set right? Now she seemed imposing, and for the first time Erik recognized that he was truly in the presence of something stronger than him.

This was an unearthly being of power! Her eyes glowed with the red fury of the rising sun! And what was he? A broken man with a tortured soul, that was all. She had sway over him and he was to listen to what she said.

"I'm sorry," it may have been the first time in his life Erik had jumped to apologize, "Thank you…for taking away her pain, even if for just a short while…I wish I could do something so worth while,"

The angel's face softened a bit, "Come Erik, it is time to see something else,"

Erik nodded.


	5. Gypsies

_A/N: Hey I just went through this whole story and changed some things, hopefully for the better, in all the chapters. Something really weird happened to the chapter "Madeleine" and the whole first part was cut out or something, so please go back and re read! Thanks!_

For the third time Erik found himself in another area completely. This time however his surroundings were extremely different than in the first two scenes.

They were not in a living room; in fact they were not inside. The angel had taken Erik to a gloomy field. Though he couldn't feel anything, Erik judged by the color of the sky and the patterns of the stars that it must have been that coldest hour before dawn when the wind bit at the backs of those who had braved a night outside. Erik knew that feeling well.

A ghostly white mist was spread along the ground. Erik watched it; it seemed to have a life of its own as it curled like a thousand snakes around the overgrown grass of the field and broke like waves against a rocky shore on the numerous planks jutting from the ground.

Erik realized that they stood in a graveyard.

"What is this place?" Erik had been in many a graveyard before, in fact you might say that he was more comfortable there than he would have been in any living room. But as for this particular grave site, he had never seen it before.

"This is the graveyard of the gypsies Erik," The angel explained.

The gypsies. Erik grimaced as he thought of them and of all the cruelties he had suffered in their camps…not to mention the horrifying night when he had run away, after his master had tried to rape him…but then Erik didn't want to think about that.

"Come with me," The angel said, gesturing for him to follow with her graceful arm.

Erik followed the angel through the maze of grave posts. It struck him as odd that he was being led through such a morose place by such a heavenly being. In the gloom of the overgrown grass and swirling mist the angel's beauty was all the more striking.

Around him Erik felt a strange energy, as though in their graves the spirits sensed something glorious from their world was walking among them.

"Here," The angel said, stopping, "This is the grave of Elizabeth Hill,"

"Who was she?" Erik went over a list of names in his head of people he had met. It was not a very long list, and he could remember no one by the name of Elizabeth Hill.

"She was a little girl in the gypsy camps," The angel explained, "You cured her of scarlet fever…of course without you there, she died,"

Erik nodded. He had nearly forgotten that even though he had been shunned for the most part by the rest of the gypsies, they had always come to him when they needed medical attention.

"And here lies Thomas and Benjamin, brothers, both dead without your help," The angel continued, "And here is…"

For the next fifteen minutes the angel went from grave to grave. All of those who she named were people Erik had saved with his potions while in the gypsy camp.

"Let me just say this," The angel said eventually, "Over half of these graves over here," She motioned to a section of the graveyard, "are people who died without your care,"

"I had no idea," Erik said, looking around at all the markers, "I remember how often they came to me, because it was the only time anyone came to me…they hated the demon child until they needed him," Erik's voice took on a bitter tone.

"Yes…they never did appreciate all that you did for them, but you did it for them anyway," the angel said, "And look how many lives you saved!"

Erik felt a strange sensation. What was it that the angel's words had given him? Was it pride that he sensed?

"You should be very proud of yourself Erik," The angel said kindly, "You see, you do have power to stop pain if you wish,"

Erik stared around at the graves in the field. He wasn't sure if it was an illusion of the mists or not but it seemed like the markers stretched on forever.

"For traveling nomads, the gypsies must have returned to this place many times," Erik said in a sardonic tone.

The angel laughed. Erik was struck by the sound; it was so clear and musical, like the ringing of a bell.

"Yes, they do come here often; very suspicious about burying their dead," The angel replied smiling.

"You look beautiful when you smile," Erik said to the angel without thinking. Immediately he hated his mouth for speaking before his mind could catch up with it. She was an angel! She knew what she looked like!

The angel's smile widened, "Thank you Erik…considering your eye for beautiful things that is quite a complement,"

Erik shook his head, "It was an incredibly stupid thing to say; I am not a good conversationalist…out of practice,"

"Well then, maybe we should practice?" The angel suggested, still grinning broadly.

"I don't—" Erik began.

"Come now," The angel interrupted him, "You said you needed practice, practice on me!" The angel sat down on the top of a particularly large headstone, "Pretend I am a woman you want to talk to,"

"I can't do that it's ridiculous!" Erik cried.

"My suggestions are not ridiculous," The angel said sharply, and a stern look came into her eyes, "Now…what would you say if you saw me and you wanted to talk to me?"

"I wouldn't say anything!" Erik said uncomfortably, "If I saw a woman that looked like you I would run the other way before I ruined her life as I have ruined the life of every other woman I have come in contact with,"

"Erik have you been paying attention to anything I have been showing you!" The angel cried frustrated, "Look at the lives of your mother! And Marie! And all the people who's graves you are now standing on! Look where they would all be without you!"

Erik opened his mouth but he found he had nothing biting or sarcastic to say to that.

"Bad conversationalist?" The angel laughed at Erik's silence, "Come then, talk to me! You deserve a break from this show of your non life I think,"

"Well I wouldn't approach a woman in a grave yard either," Erik said.

The angel nodded, "You do understand the reason I brought you here don't you? To see how many people would have died if you had not been around?"

"Yes…I understand," Erik still didn't quite believe it though. He had spent his whole life hating himself; it was going to take some time to get used to any other idea.

"Good," The angel smiled.

Erik was about to say something in response but then their location changed again, taking him completely by surprise.

The gloomy graveyard was gone; they were in a restaurant of some kind. Erik found that he was standing beside a table where the angel was sitting.

"What is this place?" Erik asked.

"Well you said you would never approach a woman in a graveyard…what about here? Would you talk to me here?" The angel asked.

"I…well," Erik was very taken aback by the sudden exercise being sprung on him, "I would not come to a place where there are so many people,"

"Fine," The angel sighed, "You are picky aren't you?"

The scene changed again. This time Erik found himself standing in white sand and staring out at blue green ocean water.

"Here," The angel said, "Now it is just you and I and the ocean,"

Erik started at her. How was he supposed to talk to an angel? The only person he talked to regularly was himself!

"Erik really, it is not so hard! Just…say something to me," The angel smiled at him.

"I have nothing to say," Erik responded, somberly resolute.

"You could start by introducing yourself," The angel suggested, seemingly unaware or simply amused by the discomfort her game was causing its unwilling participant.

"You know me already!" Erik declared in a huffy tone.

"Pretend that I don't!" The angel laughed, "That is the whole point of this!"

"Really? You mean the point is not to make me feel awkward and inadequate?" Erik snapped.

"No," The angel said quickly, "It is to show you how stubborn and grumpy you are!"

"Stubborn and grumpy is all I have," Erik muttered.

"That is not true," The angel said, and something about the strong tone in her musical voice made Erik meet her gaze.

Her eyes glowed with an unearthly beauty and her hair blew all around her face. It made her look like some kind of wild creature.

"I do know you Erik," She said, a soft smile on her lips, "And I know you have more to offer than what you admit,"

Once again, Erik found himself speechless.


	6. Nadir

_A/N: Hey! I have said this before, but I re did the chapter "Madeleine" and made small changes to the other so if you want to go back and re read them that would be smart! Thanks!_

Erik was staring out at the ocean when suddenly, it wasn't there anymore. They had gone somewhere else again.

The room he stood in now Erik immediately recognized. The shades were drawn and the little bedroom was very dark. Though he couldn't feel it, a warm breeze was coming in through the covered windows. A thin line of yellow light trimmed the dark shades and Erik knew that it was daylight outside. But the warm, pleasant rays of the sun would not penetrate this room.

There was a small figure lying on the bed; a little boy so thin and frail you could hardly tell he was indeed resting under the sheets.

Beside the bed a man kept a constant vigil. He watched the boy on the bed with sad, tired eyes. His hands held his forehead and kept it from crashing forward.

"Nadir," Erik breathed, "His son…Reza…he was very sick…" Erik stared at the son and at his desperate father.

"I know," The angel said gently.

Nadir had been sent to Russia to find Erik and bring him back to amuse the Sultana and the shah with his magic tricks. Upon his arrival Erik had been placed under Nadir's supervision; that was how their strange friendship had begun.

Nadir's wife had passed some time before, and now Nadir's only son, Reza, was slowly dying.

Erik watched the little boy. His breathing was heavy and from the sweat on his brow he was running a fever. He seemed so small and helpless, even more so than Erik had remembered.

Suddenly Reza began to cough uncontrollably. His whole body shook violently as he tried to cough and breathe at the same time.

Nadir stood and put a handkerchief to the boy's mouth.

"Relax Reza, just breathe," Nadir murmured to his son, "It is alright, I am here,"

When at last Reza had absolutely exhausted himself the coughing stopped. Trying to regain his air Reza took many short, panicked breathes. At last, he calmed himself. Warn out from his fit, his eyes closed.

Nadir took the handkerchief away from Reza and Erik saw it was covered with blood.

Turing away from his son Nadir walked out of the little room. Erik watched him as he leaned against the wall just outside the small room.

"Allah, help me…no one else can," Erik heard Nadir's forlorn prayer.

The angel looked at Erik's face and she knew he needed no explanation of the situation. When Erik had been in Persia, he had helped the young Reza. Even though he had not possessed the skills to save his life, Erik had at least made his death less painful; both for the boy and his father.

Erik felt cold and sick all over. He could feel his body tremble as Reza began to cough again. Nadir rushed back into the room and took up his place at his son's side.

This wasn't what he had wanted, Erik thought to himself. Erik had truly cared about that boy. He had admired his strength and bravery in the face of his illness. It had been his pleasure to help him.

Reza was coughing harder than before and Erik turned to the angel, "Can you help him? Please,"

Wordlessly the angel nodded. She couldn't refuse his request; it had been the most heartfelt she had ever known him to give. In one graceful move she approached the bedside. She swept her white hand over the little boy's face. He stopped coughing.

"He is sleeping now," The angel told Erik quietly.

"How long?" Erik asked.

"A year," The angel said sadly.

"A full year more of this?" Erik shook his head, "This is no way to die,"

"You are right," The angel said quietly, "It will be very painful,"

Erik sighed. Why did life always have to be so ironic? His wish to make things better had made everything so much worse. Erik had never imagined such a thing would happen. All he had ever thought of was all of the wicked things he had done.

It is just easier to remember the bad things, Erik thought to himself.

Erik turned back to watching his friend. Yes, Nadir had been his friend. The only friend he had had in the end. Even after knowing every thing he had done; murder, madness, morphine…Nadir had stood by him. He had refused to leave him to the dark fate he had predicted for himself.

Had Nadir known how horrible the death of his son would have been had he not had Erik's expertise? He must have, Erik thought.

Nadir, seeing that his son was at last asleep, left the dim room for the kitchen area. Erik and the angel followed. Nadir took the bloody handkerchief and tried to rinse it off. He then threw it in a pile where, to Erik's horror, he saw many rose red handkerchiefs stacked up.

The troubled father sat at the small table, his head in his hands.

"What shall I do?" Erik heard Nadir say, and in his voice was a kind of emotional exhaustion that suggested he was hurt far past crying.

"My son suffers!" Nadir continued his speech to the air, "And what can I do?"

"Nothing," Nadir said more softly, "I can do nothing,"

"I wish I could help you my friend," Erik whispered. He knew Nadir could not hear him anyway so he saw no reason to speak more clearly. But the angel heard him, and it made her smile.

Erik thought back to the time when he had been in Persia. He thought back to Nadir, and how he had always taken a liking to the man. And it was true, Nadir had always helped him and guided his steps no matter how crooked they became.

The politics of the Persian court had nearly swallowed Erik whole. The customs of Persia were quite different than the ones Erik was familiar with. He had been disgusted with most of them and refused to play be the rules the shah set. At first, the shah and the rest of the court had been amused by this. However it had gotten old and they had set plans in motion to have Erik arrested…to have him killed.

Nadir was supposed to have arrested him. However, in the end, he had let Erik go before he was captured. He had saved Erik's life.

But that was not even the reason he had wanted to help little Reza. It had played a factor yes, but in truth he had simply seen the suffering of the young child as a needless tragedy. He had felt for the child, and known that he could stop his overbearing pain.

And yet, he had never seen his actions as 'good.' He had seen them as just something he had done because he could. Erik had never realized; he was doing good.

"Erik?" The angel said. He sighed, he knew that no matter how much this angel tore at his soul by showing him these scenes he would never tire of hearing her beautiful voice say his name.

"It is time to go Erik," The angel said.

Erik nodded, readying himself for the sudden change of place.

He quite literally blinked and then found himself somewhere else, but he was still looking at his friend Nadir.

This place was the worst he had been to. He recognized it for what it was immediately thought he had never been there before.

It was a jail cell. The bars were old and rusty but still stood firm. The floor was dirty and Erik saw that rats roamed freely from cell to cell. There was nothing in the room, no bench to sit on, so Nadir was forced to rest on the disgusting floor.

"Wait," Erik said, "Nadir told me that he had gone to jail after he had let me escape Persia," Erik turned to the angel, "Why show me this? It happened even when I was alive,"

"Not exactly," The angel sighed, "In the life where he knew you, Nadir was imprisoned and then on his release, he moved to Paris. The reason he moved though was because you had shown him how twisted the court in Persia really was; he knew you were a Frenchman and he thought life would be better in France,"

"Exactly," Erik said, "So why show me this?"

"Without you though," The angel continued her sad story, "He never became so disillusioned with Persia. He stayed in the country too long and was arrested and…he was not so lucky to escape,"

Erik's eyes widened, "You mean? He…dies?"

There was a sudden noise of approaching feet. Two guards came to the cell door and threw it open. Both parties said nothing to each other; they knew what was fated to happen. Nadir did not even struggle or protest as the two men grabbed him and pulled him to his feet. Erik saw that there was no need for both men to hold his friend though; he was so thin.

Erik and the angel followed the execution party out of the cell. They were lead out of the jail and toward a pit which was surrounded with seats. Erik recognized the little Sultana, that sadistic creature which had made his life so dark and twisted by being the first to give him drugs…among other things.

The Sultana watched with amusement as Nadir was thrown into the pit. A moment later, a growling tiger was sent into the pit as well.

Erik looked away as he heard his friend cry out.

Tears of anger and frustration welled up in Erik's eyes. This was not what he had wanted! This was not how things should have happened! Nadir was a good man, better than any other he had met. He did not deserve the horrific death of his son, and he did not deserve to be killed at all, let alone by this wicked Sultana.

"I hate her," Erik growled, "I hate that little bitch,"

"I know; she was very cruel to you and to many others," The angel said, and her voice became very cold. It sent a chill through Erik's spine and he glanced over at her.

His angelic guide was looking nothing but at the moment. It was clear she hated this little Sultana as much as he did. And the wrathful face of the angel was terrifying to behold. Her bright, luminous and beautiful self was changed. She was the terrific face of retribution.

"Have no fear Erik, she will be punished," The angel said coldly.

Erik did not ask how. He was not sure he wanted to know. The methods of torture and death the Sultana had come up with had been horrific enough. He did not even want to imagine what kind of punishment cold final judgment had found for such a wicked person.

"Come Erik," The moment of anger past and the angel looked herself again, "There is more to see,"

Erik turned, and he could not help but catch one last look of his friend. It was a sickening sight of red blood as the tiger had its feast. Erik knew that he would never forget this awful image


	7. Christine

Once again the scene changed. Erik looked around discovered they were back in Paris. He was not sure if he should feel relived or not about this.

It was night in Paris. Did every place they visited have to be cloaked in darkness? Erik supposed that, even though he didn't realize it, even as he lived in the dark he allowed others to live in the light.

This was one of the few parts of Paris Erik recognized. The streets and allies around his Opera House were ones he could never forget.

Erik did not even bother asking the angel what they were doing in this place. He knew the reason would show itself soon enough.

Looking around Erik saw nothing out of the ordinary. The street lights were lit, sending a yellow glow out into the velvety darkness. The shadows they cast slid on and off the few people wondering the streets.

Erik knew that the only people who were out here now were the prostitutes and their customers. It was a fact that some of the dancers in the ballet took up this old profession for a boost in cash.

In fact, here was one of them now. Erik watched her as she led a man towards an ally way. He knew she was a dancer by her tall frame and the way she walked. In mild disgust, Erik watched the two in the ally. He saw the woman's skirts lifted and the man press against her.

Finished rather quickly, the man stepped away from the woman and re did his pants. The woman smoothed down her skirts and waited. However the man began to walk away.

"Hey!" the woman cried, and though her voice was a bit gravelly from drinking and smoking, Erik thought he had heard that voice before…

"Hey! You didn't pay me!" The man had been walking away from her and she stopped him just as he passed into the light of one of the street lamps. The face of the woman was still hidden in shadow, but Erik could see the man.

He was quite sickening looking. He was rather plump with dark, greasy hair and little beady eyes. Instead of saying anything to the woman, he raised his hand to her and slapped her so hard across the face she fell over into the pool of lamp light. He walked away grumbling something about prostitutes and their place.

Slowly and fearfully, Erik walked over to the form of the woman lying on the ground. He was almost afraid to see her face, because he had a feeling he knew who she was.

"No," Erik whispered, heartbroken, "Oh God,"

His Christine. What had he done! Erik sank to his knees before her.

"Christine, why?" Erik felt more awful than ever before.

The angel came up behind him, "Erik, you were the reason she was noticed by the world! You gave her music to love and fed her soul! Your strict tutelage kept her away from the trouble other dancers find themselves in, you gave her the chance to sing on stage, and be noticed by her husband and her true love…without you none of that was possible,"

Erik felt tears in his eyes again. This was his Christine! And despite the fact that she had broken his heart and left him, he had still loved her more than any other woman in his life. In the end, he only wanted her happiness. That was exactly why he had sent her off with Raoul.

Christine had given him other things besides a broken heart. She had been something to love and take care of, which had made his darkness a bit brighter. She was his muse, and the hours he had spent enraptured by music had been because of her.

She had shown him compassion as well. She had cared for him, pitied him for his life of darkness. Erik supposed that while pity was not love by any means, it was better than nothing. And she had done something more; he had known Christine, in the Biblical sense of the world. For one night, he had had her. She had given him one night of pleasure in a life of pain.

Never would her want this for her. Her life was ruined, her voice was ruined. He had sent her off wishing that she found love and joy, even if it was without him.

Suddenly Christine stirred. She sat up and rubbed her sour face. Her brown eyes narrowed and she stared off in the direction the man had been heading.

"Bastard," Christine growled. Erik noted that the bright naiveté in her eyes he had loved so much was gone. Destroyed by the world she had fallen into.

Erik tried to reach out and grab her shoulders but of course he could not.

"Oh Christine why!" Erik cried, "My poor Christine! I am so sorry my love! I never meant for this to happen!"

Of course Christine did not hear him. She simply walked off, looking for another man who would make up for the loss of money.

Erik would have gone after her. He would have followed her to the end of the earth just to watch her, even if he could do nothing to help her. However he was not allowed.

In a flash they were back where they had started.

The house by the lake. Erik looked around his home. It somehow seemed strange to him. All the familiar furniture and rooms were suddenly not so familiar. It was as though he had been dropped into someone else's house.

Erik realized, though nothing _in_ his house had changed, _he_ had.

The angel watched as Erik walked to the far corner of the kitchen. His back was turned to her, but she knew he was trying to compose himself.

Finally he turned to face her. His eyes were red and he looked very tired.

"Alright," Erik said shakily, "I understand, I cannot let that happen to Christine…or to Nadir or…to anyone,"

The angel smiled that white, beautiful smile that made Erik's heart beat faster.

"I thought you would realize in the end," the angel said, walking toward him, "And I never want you to think about this killing yourself idea ever again either, your life was worth more than you known…when I look at you Erik, I see your soul, and believe me it is quite beautiful,"

The angel was now hardly an inch away from him. She reached up and touched his deformed face with her delicate hand. Erik found her beauty suddenly even more stunning. His heart, which had already been pumping very quickly, now began to race.

"Remember that Erik," She whispered, and with that, she brought her lips to meet his.

Erik felt like his heart had exploded. The sensation of her kiss was pure heaven. He felt like a bright beam had just been cast onto him, fully lighting his dark heart at last.

He felt her hands on either side of his face, and the slight brush against his shoulders as her wings circled him. He had his arms around her waist and he felt her breathe in and out, he felt the comfort and warmth of her. He never wanted this to end.

_(Narration change_!)

It was like waking from a dream. It took me a moment, but I slowly realized that the angel was gone. I was slumped over at my kitchen table, the needle beside me, just where I had started.

I reached for the needle and picked it up. Yes, I was back. I sat there wondering; had all that really happened? Or had it all been my imagination? A hallucination brought on by the drug?

I was so lost in thought that I did not hear him coming. Nadir had made sure that the boy and Christine found their way out of the cellar. I had not thought he would return, I was sure he was through with me at last. However, he felt it was his responsibility to come back.

"Erik!" He called; walking through the house, "Erik!"

Nadir entered the kitchen and found me with the needle in my hand. I can imagine what he thought.

"Oh Erik," Nadir sighed, "You are a fool to do such things to yourself,"

But I was not listening to him. I was eyeing a white feather. I knew that there was only one way it could have gotten there. The angel had been real; as had been everything she had shown me.

I looked up at Nadir, and I could see the shocked look on his face. At first he recoiled; I wore no mask. And yet, this was not the thing which shocked him.

After realizing it all must have been real, I felt a great happiness and relief welling up inside of me that I was completely unfamiliar with. I was ecstatic, for once, to be alive, to know that all of those horrible things had not happened to the people I had discovered I really cared about.

Nadir standing in front of me proved that. And the reason he looked so surprised was that he had never seen me look so happy.

"Nadir! Old friend! You are alive! And here in Paris!" I cried, throwing down the needle and quickly embracing the shocked Persian.

"Of course I am! Where else would I be?" Nadir stared at me, "Are you drunk Erik?"

I laughed. Nadir again was shocked. He had never heard such a mirth filled noise come from my lips.

"No! You silly old fool! In fact I think I have never been in such a pure, good, state of mind!" I smiled at him and he looked confusedly back at me.

"And what of Christine?" I continued happily, "Did she go off and marry her boy?"

"Yes Erik, you know that she did," Nadir said slowly, "You were the one who sent her off with him,"

"Good," I said, still grinning broadly, "I think she will be happy,"

"Erik really," Nadir said, "What has gotten into you? I have never know morphine to have this effect on you,"

"It isn't morphing Nadir," I said. For the first time I looked away from him. I had let myself fall down a dark spiral of morphine and madness. Nadir had tried to pull me out, but I couldn't see just how bad I had gotten.

But now I could. Having had my life taken away and then shown such terrible images, and then being kissed by an angel…I had been given a new perspective. Now I could see what kind of danger I was in.

I eyed my dark, depressing home. Suddenly I felt I couldn't stand the place. I knew my life had had some purpose, though I didn't know what more I could do from this point on. But I did know that come what may, I didn't want to die in this house by the lake.

"I want to get out of here Nadir; I can't live here anymore," I said.

Of all the moods Nadir had pictured me in; this was not even close to what he had imagined. Sadness, anger, defeat…that had been what he had expected. Never in his wildest dreams had he thought he would find me elated and happy, wishing to quit my dark abode.

"Erik, what has gotten into you? Why are you acting this way?" Nadir asked.

How could I explain? I laughed. There was no way I could explain this change in me to him. I couldn't mention the angel; he would think I was crazy or hallucinating.

"I can't explain it Nadir," I said truthfully, "I just need to get out of here; will you help me? I don't think I can do this alone," Seeing as how without me Nadir would have been ripped apart by a tiger, I figured he owed me.

"Erik I have tried to help you!" Nadir cried, "You are a drug addict and…well your moods are so unpredictable it is intolerable,"

"I know," I sighed, "I have really made a mess of things haven't I? But Nadir I don't want to be like that anymore; I want to quit morphine and I want to get the hell out of this place…I think it is half the reason I am so crazy,"

I was almost sure it was. How could anyone be normal when they lived in a house underground with no light and slept in a coffin?

"Erik if you are serious," Nadir eyed me suspiciously, "Than I will help you, but you had better not relapse because I don't want a drug addict around me; I will give you this one last change,"

"Thank you old friend," I said in the most heartfelt tone I think I have ever used with him, "I promise I won't disappoint you,"

That same day I collected a few things; clothes, pens and music sheets, and a few other odds and ends and went with Nadir to his apartment. I would live there until I could stand on my own two feet again.


	8. Addiction

As I set my things in Nadir's guest room I knew this was not going to be easy. It had not been long at all and already I felt the need for morphine.

The days and weeks that followed were awful. I was shaking like mad. I could not even hold anything with my hands they trembled so violently. I feared I would never play or write music again.

I was in abject agony. Nadir had to practically feed me every day. I was in such a state of rage he had to lock me in the room to keep me from destroying his home. I know he heard me pacing and yelling and crying in that room like a caged animal.

I hated being locked in a room. I hated that I was at my own mercy. I had no control over my body or sometimes over my actions.

It took a lot of effort, a lot of fighting to keep in mind what this was all for. I wanted to be rid of my evil habit and I was determined to do it. I had always prided myself for having control over my body. Maybe I couldn't help what other people did to me, but I could help what I did to myself.

However sometimes this determination slipped; about a month into my rehabilitation I was completely mad and ready to give up.

"Nadir!" I cried, pounding on the locked door, "Nadir let me out of here! I need morphine!" I was yelling madly, probably waking the neighbors, "Let me out!"

"No," Came the simple, calm answer, "You are not yourself, and I won't let you ruin all you have done now,"

"Nadir you bastard!" I yelled angrily, "I order you to let me out of here! Do you hear me? Let me out!"

I beat my fists against the door for another hour but there was no response from my friend. I suspected he had pushed a burro against the door to keep me from breaking it down. When I had exhausted myself I slid to the floor and completely fell apart.

Tears ran down my cheeks and I hid my face in my hands. I had no control over my body. I knew deep down I didn't want morphine, but I couldn't help the desire. It tore through my body and when I thought about it, it made me shake even harder.

I had no solace from the pain. Sleep was my only possible escape, and I rarely slept. When I was exhausted from shaking, or from beating against the walls and yelling, I would sleep.

I didn't eat much. Nadir brought me food three times a day most days, but many times I didn't eat; either because I couldn't feed myself and was unwilling to let Nadir help me, or because the thought of food made me want to vomit. I was as thin as a rail in no time.

The only good thing about being locked up alone was that I didn't have to fuss with a mask. Whenever Nadir came in I would put it on for his sake. However it was uncomfortable and I was thankful that at least I could get rid of this one discomfort.

There were two more full months of this. The days and nights blurred together into one big block of torture. Often I wondered if it was worth it, but then I would remember how happy I had been once when I had realized I was alive…and I remembered the angel's kiss.

That second of tender affection by the beautiful creature was what got my through the darkest hours. When my hands shook I remembered when they had held the angel's waist. I remembered her warmth against my skin. I remembered the feel of her lips against mine. For some wonderful reason this memory never faded and it calmed me down.

I will never forget when it happened. I was well into my fourth month of hell and I was beginning to wonder if my body would simply give out.

It begun so gradually I didn't notice at first. However, one morning I woke after the deepest and most pleasurable sleep I had experienced since I had come to Nadir's apartment. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and rested my palms on the bed, preparing to face another day of torment.

But something was different. My mind felt clearer; I could think straight. I raised my hand and looked at it. It wasn't shaking anymore.

Shocked I looked at my other hand. It was more or less steady as well.

With a shout of jubilation I jumped off the bed. I walked toward the door; my steps were firm. I wasn't shaking.

When Nadir came in that morning I could tell he noticed the change as well. As I took the food from him my hands hardly shook at all.

"Erik, you seem to be doing much better today," He commented.

I nodded, "I was beginning to think this hell would never end,"

"Well my friend you are lucky; I have spoken with some people, doctors, about this sort of thing and they all said that breaking such a long morphine addiction would be nearly impossible," Nadir said.

"You know me," I sighed, "Quick healer,"

"If you are feeling well enough you should get out of this room," Nadir suggested, "You have been in here for too long,"

I agreed. I had been forced to stay in the small guest room for nearly the entire four months I had been recovering. If I hadn't been so used to small places I might have been driven mad by this alone.

Gladly I followed Nadir out of the guest room. It was like being released from prison. I felt free at last.

It took about another month for my full recovery. Every once and awhile I got shaky again, but that happened less and less frequently.

My staying in the apartments had created a great deal of drama with Nadir's neighbors. They had heard me screaming in the first three months of my rehabilitation and they were curious to find out who the Persian was hiding in his home.

This caused a problem for my friend and I wished to relieve him of the burden of my presence.

"I think I should move," I said to him one day in late August.

Nadir looked up at me from his tea. I knew he had been hoping I would leave soon, "Where would you go?"

"Somewhere away from here," I said firmly, "I want to leave Paris,"

"I think that is wise," Nadir said, "Do you still have funds to buy your own place?"

I laughed, "Yes, I did manage not to squander all of it…perhaps somewhere by the coast; I would like to live by the sea,"

"That would be pleasant," Nadir stared at me, "You are different than you where before my friend…I remember when I first met you; you were more like you are now. Cynical yes, but with some humor…what happened to you Erik? What made you change so much?"

I sighed. I still couldn't tell him. In fact, now I wasn't even sure how much of it I believed. I had clung to the memory of my angel so hard during my madness; I now connected her with my craziness. I still had the feather I had found on my table, but I was becoming unsure.

However the result had stayed with me. I never again wished that I had been smothered at birth, and in letting go of this hatred for my life I no longer saw any reason to end it.

"I can't explain it Nadir," I said at last, "But I am grateful,"

Nadir sighed, "I guess I should be to…I have been worried about your sanity for years now,"

"I gave you good reason," I muttered, "I was quite mad,"

What the on earth had I been thinking all my life? I pinpointed my real madness as starting in Persia. That had been where I had built the mirrored torture chamber and started my whole addiction to morphine.

From there of course my madness had grown. I hoped that I had not twisted Christine's mind too badly and that she could be happy where ever she was. The truth was that I had only ever loved her; I had never meant to drag her into my insane world.

Though I could not be too angry with myself. If I had not taken any interest in Christine, she would have been much worse off for it.

I did move out of the Persian's apartment. Nadir really did all the leg work and found a place within my price range on the coast near Deauville.


	9. Giselle

I made the trip there as quickly as I could. Winter would be here soon and I wanted to make sure I would not freeze to death in my new home.

Leaving Paris was a quite a moment for me. Though I had lived in many different places, I had been in Paris for a very long time. A lot had happened to me in this city; I had gone to the very brink and back again. It actually felt good to be leaving. I wanted to get as far away from my past as I could.

"This is the place you bought for me?" I asked Nadir, shocked as the little carriage I had hired to take us there pulled down the drive.

It was much larger than I thought it would be, much larger than I needed.

"Will I be entertaining in this place?" I asked sarcastically.

"All the houses by the coast are like this," Nadir shrugged, "This is actually quite small,"

"Hmm," I grumbled as I carried what little I had into the house. I looked around my new home. It was pretty well kept up; a bit of dust here and there but I could more than live with that. I dropped my things in the foyer and moved though the bottom level of the house.

There was a large kitchen and dinning room, both of which completely useless to me. Also there was a study and a living room…again both were much too big for my needs. I stopped in the living room.

I had to say, the view of the ocean from the large bay window was very pleasant. And also, I noted the grand piano. I supposed if I ever wanted to play again, I had the option.

Nadir stayed with me for a few weeks as I made the house livable again. I would not hire any staff to help me run it. I did not want people around me right now. I was so eager to be alone that I was not even too sorry to see Nadir go.

"Good bye my friend," Nadir said to me as he stepped into the carriage which was going to take him back to Paris, "I hope you are happy here,"

"I think I will be," I told him.

"I will write," Nadir said. He looked like he was going to say something and then he changed his mind. And then he changed it back again, "Erik, I have to say I am very proud of the way you turned yourself around and of the way you have handled…everything; it would be a shame to work so hard and then go back to your old ways,"

I snorted, "Oh yea of little faith," Clearly Nadir thought my desire to be alone had something to do with a desire to use again, "I have no intention of going one step backwards,"

Nadir gave me a small smile, "I hope not my friend, I hope not," He tipped his hat to me and then he was gone.

I went inside my home and shut the door. I had taken a liking to me living room and its view of the ocean. It had a large fireplace so the room was always warm. It was getting colder outside and I found that, though I had lived with cold, uncomfortable conditions, I now had no desire to freeze.

So I sat in the large chair by the fire like any other man might do. With a deep breath I removed my mask. I would not need to wear it with Nadir gone.

For the first time in a long time I was alone with my thoughts. And these were truly my thoughts, not mad ramblings. This was what Erik, the man, was really feeling.

Heartbreak; I knew my heart was still broken. As crazy as I had been at the time, my love for Christine had been real. I had been busy healing my body, now I needed time for my heart to heal.

The long, cold winter by the French coast was the perfect thing for me. I had what little I needed delivered to me. Once a month food, wood, and some newspapers were brought to me from Paris. Nadir insisted that I get the news. He was worried that compete seclusion might turn me to madness again.

He needn't have worried. The rage I had once felt at the world was gone, used up at last I suppose. Much more was gone as well, namely my desire to compose music.

I had tried to play the piano a few times after arriving at the house. However, the inspiration was gone. Christine had been my muse; when she had left so had my will to play and sing.

With music gone I needed something else to do. As much thought as I had to sift though, I still wanted some distraction to occupy myself.

That was how the mural started. There was a room in the house next to the living room. It also had a wonderful view of the ocean. I think it was intended to have been used as a small ballroom.

"Really Nadir," I muttered to myself whenever I thought of the room, "Did you think I would need this?"

But what I did use it for was to paint. I had always had a talent for the arts, and it was a relaxing endeavor. One month I placed an order with the delivery men for paints and brushes. By the time they came back the next month I had made the walls ready.

I wanted to paint a tribute to the angel I thought I believe had brought me out of my dark days.

So that was how I passed the winter, painting and thinking and healing.

Though I was not crazy, I was rather lost in my own world. It came as a bit of a surprise when I looked out one day and saw buds on the trees around my house.

And it was on a particularly warm day in spring that I ventured down to the beach for the first time. I had worn my mask even though I did not think I had many neighbors.

However the sun felt so good and the breeze was so pleasant that I considered taking it off. I looked around me and I was glad that I had not yet removed it.

Toward me was walking the form of a girl leading a horse. My heart beat quickened as I wondered who this woman would be, and what this meeting would bring.

"Hello," The woman called out to me in a slightly distressed voice, "Monsieur, could you help me please? My horse, her shoe…"

For the first time I noticed that her horse was limping. I walked toward the woman and got my first good look at her face.

My heart sank; of all the women in the world why did this one have to be so beautiful? She had a perfect heart shaped face, long black hair and crystal blue eyes.

"Monsieur? My horse? Can you help me?" She smiled helplessly at me.

"Of-of course," I said, stuttering a bit. I was obviously thrown off by her presence and my voice was not used to being used.

I took up the horses hoof and managed to wrench the half torn shoe all the way off.

"Thank you," the girl pet the neck of her tall chestnut mare, "I am Giselle Chevalier," She extended her hand to me.

"Erik Bonheur," I kissed her knuckles. I had come up with the name when I had bought the house. It basically meant "good luck," something I thought I would need.

"Did you just move here? I do not think I have ever seen you before," Giselle asked me, still smiling pleasantly.

"Yes, I came here in the autumn," I replied. I felt quite dumb and awkward speaking to this woman I had just met on the beach, but she pretended not to notice my nerves.

"Oh! Well you will love the summers here, they are wonderful…do you live in town or--?" Giselle seemed to be determined to carry on a conversation with me despite my uncomfortable manner and odd appearance.

"I live there," I said haltingly, pointing to my house. I was not used to talking to anyone, let alone beautiful women and I seemed to be unable to say much more than a few words to her.

"I had no idea they sold that place," Giselle said interestedly, "Are you enjoying it?"

"It is quite suitable thank you," God what was I saying?

"Um…" Giselle seemed to have run out of polite things to say, "I can not thank you enough for helping me with Venus, I don't think she could have made it home with that shoe,"

I knew I needed to say something but nothing came to mind! I thought quickly. My eyes fell on her horse, "Do you ride often?"

"Every day during the summer," Giselle seemed happy I had said something, "This was our first run of the season…I guess it could have gone better," She laughed.

I tried to smile but it must have looked ridiculous, "How far from here do you live?"

"About three miles," Giselle waved her hand, "I live in town,"

"I have never been," I admitted. I hadn't even known there was a town there.

"Oh! You must go!" Giselle looked quite surprised, "It is becoming quite a popular port, but you must know that…are you from Paris as well?"

"Are many people in Deauville from Paris?" I asked, somewhat worried.

"Well yes! All of the most affluent people come from Paris for the summer…isn't that why you are here?" Giselle asked innocently.

"Yes, of course," I lied quickly. I had thought Deauville would be a quite coastal town…not a retreat for the rich.

Giselle laughed beautifully, "Our family has always summered here; my father said it would only be a matter of time before the rest of Paris did the same,"

"I see," I said, now completely out of my wits at what to say. It was clear I was talking to some noblewoman, a future lady or countess some such thing.

Giselle kept right on laughing, "I just sounded terribly snobbish didn't I? I apologize; I try not to act that way,"

I was surprised, "That is quite alright Mademoiselle; I thought you sounded perfect,"

Either my eyes deceived me or she blushed, "Well Monsieur Bonheur, I have to be going; but I am sure my father will want to meet you, so expect a dinner invitation soon," She flashed me one last brilliant smile before mounting her horse, "Au revoir Monsieur!"

Before I could stop her she flew off on the back of Venus down the beach. I sighed. The last thing I wanted to do was be invited to some aristocrats mansion for dinner, especially when he had such a beautiful daughter.

I decided to hope that Giselle had just been saying things to be polite and that her father would not invite me anywhere.

As I walked back to my own house, I could not help but see Giselle's face in my head. She had been incredibly beautiful. Every feature on her face was perfect; in fact, she reminded me of the angel.

And I had met her on a beach! Just as the angel and I had talked on a beach. Perhaps that meant something. I knew I was being foolish, but Giselle had been very nice to me; I was not used to that. Of course I would fall in love with her on first sight.


	10. Count

I had hoped that her father would not invite me to dinner; but my hope proved ill founded within only a day.

I was sitting in my living room when I heard a knock at the door. It was not yet time for my monthly delivery of supplies, Nadir had not written to tell me he was coming, and so for some reason, I thought it might be Giselle.

It was not. I came to the door and a very well dressed butler greeted me.

"Is Monsieur Bonheur in?" The man asked me.

"I am Monsieur Bonheur," I said coldly, not knowing who this man was or what he wanted.

The butler was clearly taken aback that the master of the house would also answer the front door. With a great deal of suspicion, the man stated his purpose.

"Count Chevalier wishes to invite you to dinner at his home tomorrow night," The man said.

Count I thought. Of course he would be a count. I had absolutely no desire to dine with the count and his family, no matter how beautiful or sweet Giselle was.

"I decline," I said, stepping back and shutting the door. I am sure that I left the butler feeling quite perplexed.

It was a shame, I really had liked Giselle. I assumed that the reason she had been so pleasant with me was because she had been taught etiquette by upper class aristocrats; ignore what you do not want to see.

Now they would all know something was a bit off with me. No one in their right mind would turn down an invitation from the count without even giving a reason.

I had thought that that would end things, but it did not.

The next day, I got another knock at my door. I threw it open, being prepared to tell whoever it was to leave, but I found myself facing Count Chevalier himself. His rich clothing gave him away.

The Count was a tall man, almost at eye level with me. He had black hair which was flecked with gray and steel blue eyes. He eyed me with extreme calm; nothing on his face reacted to my odd mask.

"Good afternoon," He said smoothly, "May I come in?"

I stepped aside and let him come in. I did not know what to make of this man coming into my home.

"I am not used to people turning down my invitations," He said, looking around my house.

Well, aren't we pompous, "Clearly," I said, "When someone refuses to come to you, you do not go to them,"

"Perhaps other people do not, but I do," The count turned to me, "Why did you refuse my invite?"

Pompous and blunt…I would have to kill him, "I did not wish to come,"

The man studied me for a moment. Slowly, a smile spread across his face, "I like a man who says what is on his mind; it is quite refreshing,"

I was more than a bit taken aback by this man's actions in my home. I watched as the Count walked around as though I had invited him in.

"Is there something you needed from me?" I asked him.

Chevalier laughed at me, "I wanted to see who you were, my daughter found you most interesting, and I make it my business to know everyone of note that moves to Deauville,"

"I am hardly of note," I told him, though I had felt my heart jump a few feet when I had been informed that Giselle found me interesting.

"I will be the judge of that," Chevalier said mildly, walking toward my living room.

I realized that short of physically throwing this man out of my house I had no way to get rid of him. Still a bit in shock, I followed the Count though my house.

"You are not married are you?" This was not a question, "I can tell by the way you keep your house…do you not have any servants?"

A few more minutes of this and I would have to bodily throw him out, "No, I like to be alone,"

"I suspected as much," Chevalier said, "Makes you into something of a character,"

"I do not think it makes me anything at all," I said coldly.

Chevalier walked into my living room and looking around with mild interest, "You underestimate the curiosity of all the society ladies in town; nothing is more intriguing than a mystery, and that is what you are,"

This information startled me. Perhaps I would be interesting to my neighbors at first, but I knew eventually they would find something sinister or frightening about me.

That was how it had always been in Paris. Before I had lived under the opera house, I had stayed in various apartments around the city. At first everything was fine, and then eventually people became frightened by the man in the mask. Land lords would always come to me, giving me some reason why it was necessary that I leave.

I would go from place to place. Slowly I ran out of reputable hotels or apartments in which to stay and my standards became lower. In the end I had even been kicked out of a dank one room hole which was worse than under the opera.

"I could not have caused much of a stir, no one even knows me," I said to Chevalier.

"My little Giselle is at fault I am afraid; she gave quite an account of you; you are different, and therefore worthy of much talk and speculation," Chevalier informed me.

I felt my blood run cold, "I am afraid that I will turn out to be quite the disappointment for your gossiping friends," I did not want anyone to talk about me. I wanted to be left alone, at least my all these rich, bored French nobles.

"Most likely," Chevalier began, agreeing with me, but then he walked into my little ballroom.

This room had become my workshop. Not only were the walls covered in an extensive mural, there were many blueprints scattered across a table in the middle of the room. I had always loved architecture; seeing a building borne out of the ground and rise to the sky.

I had gotten inspired with the mural. I had used my favorite thing in the room, the large window which faced the ocean as a jumping off point. Around the window I had painted what you would see if there were no walls; I painted the landscape as I would have been see outside my home.

The effect was that when you entered the room, you felt as though you were no longer in doors. However I had not painted everything in a completely realistic manner. The colors were a bit off and the lines were blurred. It was like stepping into a dream world where you were never quite sure what was what.

Chevalier was impressed, "Who painted this for you?"

I was almost afraid to tell him, "I did it myself,"

Chevalier turned to face me, his large eyebrows raised, "You have quite a gift my friend; perhaps you are worthy of talk," He walked toward the table and picked up one of my drawings, "You did these as well?"

I nodded reluctantly.

"Well then, you and I have much to talk about,"

As it turned out, Jacque Chevalier was not only a rich, French count, he was also quite ambitious and determined to remain at the very top of French society. With the middle class on the rise and many of his titled friends coming to the end of their fortunes, Chevalier was determined not to be left on the outside.

His idea was Deauville. Chevalier was determined to make Deauville into **the** retreat for the wealthy, influential citizens of France. His plan for doing this involved making Deauville the most desirable place to live. It already had beautiful views of the ocean, now he needed to make sure the landscape was just right.

Chevalier wanted large mansions, gardens, roads; all classic yet modern. It seemed that what appealed to Chevalier was not old world traditions and hierarchy, but money. He didn't mind if the bourgeoisie came to Deauville, as long as they could pay for it.

"And this is what I want from you," Chevalier told me. We were still standing in my mural room. Offering to move to any other room in my house seemed quite pointless to me; I had little furniture for anyone to sit on and no food ready to give out as an appetizer.

"I have been thinking I want to build; I grow tired of my house, I already have a few contractors and architects putting in bids, showing me designs…but I want to see what you can come up with,"

"Monsieur, I really have no desire to build for you," I said flatly.

Chevalier laughed, "Really? Are you telling me that you would turn down the chance to have complete creative control and no budget? Can you really refuse that?"

I had to admit that the offer was extremely tempting. I hadn't built anything since I had assisted with the construction of the opera house. And this time it could be my design that was constructed…my ideas done exactly as I wanted them.

"Well Bonheur, what do you say?"

"I say that this has all happened too fast," I said at last, "I have only just met you and already you offer me a job; I shall need time to consider,"

"You are definitely an odd man Bonheur," Chevalier sighed, "Most would jump at this chance,"

"I do not jump," I said coldly, "Not for anyone,"

This man had a lot of nerve coming to my home uninvited and unwanted. Then strolling through my home and looking though my things; he was very rude from someone who was supposedly so well cultured.

"Nor do I," Chevalier smiled at me, "Nor do I,"

After Chevalier left, I admit that I thought a great deal about his offer. Architecture had always been a passion of mine which was never quite fulfilled. I had worked on a few major projects yes, but I had never had that definitive commission.

The shah had offered me what I had thought I wanted back in Persia. I had been given free reign over the design and the construction. However when I had realized what a cruel little prick the shah was, it had taken all the pleasure out of the task.

Then, upon visiting my mother and finding that she was dead, I had read in the newspaper about the contest. Architects were to submit their plans for the new Paris Opera and the best one would be chosen. I had missed the deadline by mere days.

If I turned down the Count, would I miss another chance to build something magnificent? It was not an opera house, but it could be wonderful. It seemed as though Chevalier had a taste for the grand and the new. I could really do something amazing.

On the other hand, it would mean dealing with construction workers and masons and many many more. No matter what, no matter how hard I tried, these people always ended up hating me or being afraid of me.

Jules Bernard was the perfect example. I had employed Jules for years. He had basically been my assistant; helping me to get anything I needed. He rented me apartments, got me food, and went all the places I could not go because of the way I looked.

I had been very good to Jules for years. I had paid him well, and when he had started a family I had paid him even more and made sure he could send his children off to good schools. Even when France had fallen on hard times during the war with Russia and money was scarce, I still gave Jules more than enough to survive.

And then one night, I had gone to the Bernard house to give Jules the money he was due. Out in the hallway we had suddenly heard a scream and then the sound of something tumbling down the stairs.

We had both run out to see that Jules's baby girl had fallen down a full flight steps. I had reached her just as Madame Bernard had scooped her up. The woman clutched her child as though she was afraid someone might try to pull her away.

"Please," I had said, "Your child is injured; let me look at her,"

Madame Bernard had looked terrified, "No, she is fine," She lied. The girl had fallen! She needed medical attention!

"Please," I had asked again.

And at this point she fear turned to aggression, "Stay away from her!" She had screamed.

"Madame—" I had begun.

"Why do you come here?" She had spat, "Frightening the children, frightening everyone! Why don't you keep away!"

Jules had tried to quite the woman but there was nothing for it. Clearly all these thoughts had been building inside of her and she was ready to let them be known.

"We don't need your cold charity!" She had screamed, "We don't need your money! You won't buy my children as you have bought my husband! Go away monsieur; go right away and don't come back! Do you hear me! Don't ever come back here again!"

Even now, years later, I could still hear her panic stricken, angry voice yelling at me. I knew, even without the angel showing me, that they all would have starved without my help. And yet, even after all I had done for them, they hated me.

This incident had done a great deal to deaden my will to live among people. It had been just after this that I had thought to move into the fifth cellar of the opera house.

I shook my head. The memory of Madame Bernard's voice still sent a cold chill though my heart. Was I a fool to think I could ever work along side anyone without them wishing I were gone?

No, I could not. I would not accept Chevalier's offer.

I had a dream that night. I dreamt of Giselle. I saw her beautiful face…her long, trim body…

When I woke in the morning I felt rather ashamed of myself; dreaming about a girl half my age I had met once in such a way. Still, I couldn't get the image of Giselle out of my head.

Giselle had been so kind to me. The way she had spoken to me, without fear…I was not sure why she had done that, but I did think I wanted to find out.

And so, once again, I put my pride away for a woman. I would accept Chevalier's offer for the chance to see Giselle again.


	11. The Family Chevalier

The only problem was that I had no way to get in touch with him. He had left his card with his address, but I had no way to get a note to him. I had no serving man to take him anything, and I had no horse to rid into town with.

My two choices were to wait until Chevalier happened to come and visit me again, or walk into town myself.

As I did not know when or if Chevalier would return, I saw no other choice but to walk.

It was not a terrible day outside if you liked sun and warmth. I would have preferred fog and rain. The prospect of going into town did scare me a bit. More than once I thought of turning back. Did I really want to face all the odd stares of strangers?

And what if Chevalier was not home? What if I arrived there and then was turned away?

I had ample time to wonder about this. The town was farther away than I had expected. As I had not had a great deal of exercise in some time I was soon tired out.

At first the walk was quite nice. The fresh air tinged slightly with the smell of salt from the sea tasted better than I had imagined.

However as I got closer to the town houses started to crop up. As it was such a nice day, children were running here and there; most people were outside.

I felt like the grim reaper walking past the happy homes. Dressed all in black with a white mask covering half of my face I do not fault those I passed for staring.

I began to feel humiliated again. This may have been an awful mistake.

All for Giselle. I laughed bitterly at myself. Had I learned nothing from Christine? Rejection was the only thing I would ever get from a woman. And yet, I could not shake how sweetly Giselle had spoken to me; as though I had been any other man.

She had looked like the angel. That was half the reason I think I felt so much for her so quickly. The angel had given me something I appreciated more than I could ever fully say. She had given me the will to live again…or at least I thought she had.

I think she was real; I do not think I dreamed her up all on my own. She had certainly felt real.

Of course it was absurd to love an angel…I had felt enamored by her presence yes, but an angel was a creature from another world. Giselle was a real, living breathing woman.

A woman who I could now focus my whole, obsessive need to love and be loved on I thought cynically.

Once I entered the town proper more and more people were there to give me odd glances. However, the increased amount of street traffic did allow me a bit more anonymity.

At last I found the residence of Count Chevalier. I could not at all see why he would desire new lodgings. The mansion was absolutely gorgeous by French high society standards. It was a three story grandiose palace. The landscaping was impressive as well. There were tall topiaries cut into various shapes; a woman's form, animals, along with tress whose blossoms were pale pink flowers.

I walked toward the house and the feeling of panic which had been growing since I had reached the first few houses of the town now came to a fever pitch.

By the time I got to the large, oak front door I was ready to turn around. However, the doorman must have been watching because he opened the door for me before I could even knock.

"May I help you Monsieur?" He asked. His words were polite, but his voice said it all; I must have seemed like quite an undesirable guest to his master's pristine home. Not only was my appearance odd because of the mask, there was also dust from the road coating the bottom foot of my pants.

Trying to keep my voice strong and confident, I spoke, "I am here to see Count Chevalier; I am Erik Bonheur…he knows who I am,"

"I shall see if the Count has time to speak with you," he turned on his heel and stalked off.

"Indeed," I muttered, standing on the front steps, waiting like a beggar for scraps.

It felt like some time before the butler re appeared, "The Count has agreed to take the time to meet with you, though in the future he asks that you make an appointment instead of simply showing up at the front door,"

Would it be terribly inappropriate to slap the butler? I wondered this as I followed him into the mansion.

It was much cooler inside the house than out. I hadn't realized just how hot I had become walking in the midday sun.

"Monsieur Bonheur," The butler announced me before ushering me into the parlor.

The room was large and very bright. The sun was pouring in though a pair of French doors, one of which was opened. I could see that the doors lead out to a porch and past that was the ocean. On the porch I could see two forms sitting on white lounge chairs. My heart skipped; one of them could be Giselle.

Seated in the parlor on an elegant sofa was a very attractive woman I could only think was Giselle's mother; the Countess Chevalier.

She had thick black hair just like her daughter's and piercing blue eyes. She was dressed in quite a low cut frock of white and pale blue; even sitting down I could tell she was a most desirable woman.

The Count sat in a lush arm chair next to the sofa his wife was perched on. Upon my arrival he stood and smiled, extending his hand for me to shake.

"Erik!" He said jovially, "Tell me you have decided to build me something?"

"I was not aware I could decide what I could build for you," I said, taking his hand.

Chevalier laughed, "Erik this is my wife, Countess Gabrielle Jacqueline Francette Montagne Chevalier,"

The Countess stood and gave me her hand. With an expression of mild amusement mixed with the knowledge that I was not really worthy of her time she spoke,

"Do not try to remember all those names Erik; I do not even remember them all! Nor does Jacque; in fact I am sure he makes up a few new ones every time he introduces me,"

I laughed despite the fact that I think I was sweating. I took her hand and raised it to my lips. Of course, I did not actually kiss it; I brushed my lips against my own thumb as a true gentleman would do.

"It is such a beautiful name I do not think I will forget it Countess Gabrielle Jacqueline Francette Montagne Chevalier," I said.

The Countess raised an eyebrow, "How charming,"

"Yes," Chevalier laughed, "We will have to warn our daughters about you," Chevalier then raised his voice, "Girls! Come in here!" He called.

His voice drifted out though the open French door to the two women sitting on the porch. They stood and entered the house.

One was indeed Giselle. She looked just as ravishing as I remembered her. She smiled brightly at me, her skin was radiant and her hair looked ever so silky…she was a living angel.

The girl who stood next to her could only have been her sister. This girl was younger than Giselle, but she shared her sisters striking beauty. She too had dark hair and light eyes.

"This is our youngest daughter Georgette," Chevalier said, "And I believe you have already met Giselle?"

"Yes, I have," I said, even more ill at easy now that Giselle was present.

"It is good to see you again Monsieur Bonheur, I was very disappointed when you did not accept my father's dinner invitation," Giselle said kindly.

"If I had known my refusal would upset you in the slightest way than I would have come," I said before I realized how foolish and forward it sounded.

Giselle was a saint however and ignored any suggestion my words might have held as to my feelings for her.

She simply laughed, "You may make it up to me Monsieur, stay for dinner tonight,"

"If the Count and Countess will have me than it would be my pleasure," I said, wondering if it actually would be, "And please, call me Erik,"

"May I call you Erik as well?" Giselle's younger sister Georgette cut in; clearly she was not one to be left out of a conversation.

"Of course," I said, though I did not give a damn what the girl called me. My interest was in her sister.

"I am very lucky am I not? To have such beautiful daughters," Chevalier said, sitting down and motioning for all of us to do the same.

The girls sat on either side of their mother, Chevalier returned to the seat he had been in when I walked in, and I sat in an armchair facing Chevalier next to the sofa. To my delight, Giselle's position on the sofa made her close to me.

"And we have one more daughter as well," Chevalier said proudly, "Giselle is the eldest, than Gemma, and then Georgette,"

"Gemma is in Paris now," The Countess spoke of their middle daughter just as proudly as the Count, "She is a model,"

"Pardon me?" I did not really know what a model was, at least when the word referred to a person.

"Well all the best tailors and dress makers make clothes to attract business; Gemma models the finished product to the consumers," The Countess was absolutely beaming.

"Wait," I started to remember something, "Gemma Chevalier of course…I have read her name before," Nadir had made me get the newspapers delivered to my home and I always checked the society pages to see if they made any mention of Christine.

The only thing I ever found out about her was that she and the boy had moved to England. Other than that there was no mention of her, but I still checked them just in case.

As such, I was more informed about the lives of Paris elite than I might have been. I remembered on more than one occasion coming across the name Gemma Chevalier. I could not believe I had not connected her with the Count.

The story I had read about the model had involved the latest in a string of young, good looking aristocrats whose hearts she had broken. Apparently she had been courting him for some time before she had simply said goodbye and moved on.

It seemed like such a cold thing to do. It was heard to believe that a high flung fashion diva could be the sister of such a sweet, grounded girl like Giselle.

"Yes; this modeling hobby of hers has turned into quite the glamorous job," Chevalier said, still glowing with pride, "It has become all the rage in Paris; Gemma goes to New York, Rome, and Venice often too; this fashion industry is becoming the favorite pastime for society women, am I right dear?" Chevalier asked his wife.

"Oh yes, everyone goes to the shows," The Countess said in agreement.

"And Gemma is one of the most popular models," I could see why the Count was so proud and excited that his daughter was a model. From what I could gather Chevalier was interested in anything new that would keep him at the top of French society.

"But enough about my daughters," Chevalier said at last, though I could have listened to him talk about Giselle for hours, "Why are you here Erik?"

"I am here about your offer," I said, "I would like to accept,"

"Excellent!" Chevalier exclaimed, "I had hoped you would, to tell you the truth I had no other contractors lined up for this job,"

"I had thought as much," I told him. I had not been sure of this fact until he told me, but I was used to bluffing and I had wondered if it had been a pressure tactic to tell me others were interested in the job.

"Clever man," Chevalier laughed, "So what do you see design wise? Did you bring anything for me to look at?"

I had not, "No…but if you allowed me to, I could work something up for you right now,"

"Wonderful," Chevalier said, "Henri!" He called, and the snooty butler reappeared, "Henri, could you bring Erik some parchment and a pen?"

"Of course," the butler nodded, hurrying away. He came back moments later and laid a piece of white parchment before me on the small table in front of the chair I sat on. He handed me the pen, leaving an ink well on the table as well.

The truth was I had not had any idea what I wanted to make for Chevalier, but now that I was sitting in his home, with Giselle watching me intently, my mind became clear and I began to sketch.

"Oh my Erik," Giselle said. As she was the closest to me she had the best view of what I was doing. She stood and came to my side to see the parchment better. My heart rate quickened dangerously, "Erik this looks amazing…you are thinking of all this just now? You had not had this planned?"

"No Mademoiselle," I said, hoping she did not notice how my hand shook slightly as she paid her complements.

"Oh that is not fair; if I am to call you Erik than you must call me Giselle,"

Giselle. It was such a beautiful name, I would have liked to allow my voice to form the sounds that composed her name and say it out loud every minute of every day. However I feared that if I did speak her name I would no longer be able to hide my growing feelings for her.

Thankfully I was saved for the moment from addressing her. Chevalier had come to my side to survey my progress.

"Ah! Exactly!" Chevalier said in a pleased voice, standing above me and looking down at the parchment, "You know what I want Erik, I think you are going to be just perfect for this job,"

"Well I think you two have a lot of business to discuss," The Countess said to her husband, "I think we will leave you for the time being,"

My heart fell, but then, just as quickly, it was picked up again, "May I stay? If you don't mind?" Giselle asked, "This is all quite interesting to me,"

"Of course," Her father did not send her away.

Was this really happening? Had Giselle really just asked to stay in the room? I hoped she really was interested in architecture; I would be more than willing to answer any questions she had.


	12. The Beginning

For the next two hours I talked with Chevalier about the conditions under which I would work, the pay I would receive, and the time frame of the project. I would need masons, laborers, all of which Chevalier told me I could hire at my own discretion.

Throughout the time Chevalier and I talked, Giselle sat relatively quiet, observing both of us. Even though she did not say much, the fact that she was there never left my mind. I could feel her bright eyes on me when I spoke and I was afraid I may have turned a bit red.

By the time our business was though, it was nearly time for the dinner I had agreed to stay for. Giselle excused herself to go and change for supper. Chevalier excused himself as well and told me to just make myself at home and wait in the parlor.

When I was alone I stood and stretched my legs. We had been sitting for some time. As I walked around the lavish room, I noted the small details I had missed before. There was a book on a side table which looked half read, a small discarded sample of sewing, and in the corner on an easel was a painting. One of the girls must have done it. It was a bit amateur, a portrait of who appeared to be Georgette and her mother. Perhaps Giselle had painted this…

My attention turned to the large family portrait which hung over the mantel on the opposite wall of the parlor.

It appeared to be fairly recent. I picked out Giselle's beautiful face and tall slender form immediately. Chevalier was seated in the center on a chase next to his wife. Behind them stood Giselle. I stared at the painted image of her; it did not do her justice but then I doubted anything could. Even in the painting I would see the small sweet smile playing around her lips…oh her lips…

I feared that if I stared at her for much longer I would encounter a very embarrassing and inappropriate problem. So I tore my eyes away from her. To the left of Chevalier and his wife was Georgette.

My impression of Georgette was that she was the baby and probably a bit spoiled. But then, I hardly knew her. She looked quite young in this painting; the expression on her face was a mirror image of her mother's as she tried to look impressive and regal.

To the left there stood another young woman. That had to be Gemma. I was quite shocked; she was even taller than Giselle and unlike the rest of the family she had platinum blond hair which hung in waves down to her slim waist.

She had a small smile on her full lips as well, but it achieved a completely different effect than Giselle's. Gemma looked sly and seductive. Even in the painting, her large ocean colored eyes sparked with a certain…something.

Yes, I could see that this woman broke the hearts of men.

I wondered what being in a portrait like this felt like. How did it feel to stand next to a group of people and say this is my family, these people are where I come from.

The butler interrupted my thoughts on the Chevalier family.

"Dinner is served Monsieur," He said in quite a condescending tone. Clearly even if the Count and Countess accepted me, he still did not.

I walked into the dinning room and immediately felt awkward. The whole Chevalier family was already seated and staring at me as I entered.

The Count sat at the head of the table. On his lift sat the Countess, and next to her Georgette. There was an empty seat on Chevalier's right hand side which was meant for me, and next to me; Giselle.

God, help me though this meal without embarrassment.

I did manage to make it most of the way though without any significant incident. There was mostly polite small talk and pleasant food. I had not eaten this well in years.

Giselle being at my side made me more nervous than I would have been. Once, she shifted her long legs underneath the table and one accidentally brushed against mine. I felt my heart stop and I had to try very hard not to lose control over myself.

However, my downfall came.

"Erik? May I ask you," Georgette began. Georgette had offered her strong opinion about every topic we had touched on. I had not been wrong about her; she was quite young and arrogant.

"Erik why do you wear that mask?"

Her words killed me. These people had reacted so little to my strange appearance I had almost forgotten how I looked. Georgette's words brought me crashing back to reality.

There was the sound of silverware dropping as the whole table stared at Georgette.

I didn't know what to say. I could have said something; I could have lied. It was not so shameful to say that I had been injured as some point. However I could not think of anything.

I felt ashamed. How could I have forgotten my appearance? How could I forget that I was not a normal man?

"Excuse me," I muttered as I quickly stood and rushed toward the front door. This was not the world I belonged in; I just couldn't do it.

"Wait!"

To my surprise, Giselle had followed me into the hall.

"Don't go Erik," Giselle said kindly, grabbing my arm, "Please…Georgette does not mind her manners very well, she did not mean to upset you,"

"She did not upset me," I said coldly, "She reminded me of something…excuse me Mademoiselle, I must go,"

I hurried out to the door and the butler happily opened it for me. I burst out into the evening air and inhaled deeply.

"Erik!" Giselle did not give up, "Will you come back?"

"I do not think so," I said, amazed that she was still behind me.

"But why? Please you must come back, everyone is so excited about you; and don't you want to build this house for us?" Giselle asked.

I turned and stared at her. Did she know how lonely I was? Did she know that her family was some of the only people I had talked to in months? Was it possible that she saw that without this project to work on I had nothing?

"You can leave now, but at least promise that you will come back," Giselle said softly.

Men are fools, and they cannot refuse the women they find themselves falling for.

"I will return Mademoiselle, because you asked me to," The words fell out of my mouth before I could stop them.

Giselle smiled, "Thank you Erik, and when you do come back, please remember to call me Giselle,"

"Giselle," I said, swallowing the lump in my throat and taking her hand. I could not resist actually kissing it, "Apologize to your mother and father for me, and bid them goodnight on my behalf,"

"I shall," Giselle smiled, giving me a small curtsy before she turned and went back into her house.

It was deep night before I returned home. Absolutely exhausted I fell asleep right away.

Chevalier never mentioned the incident with his daughter ever again. I went back to meeting with him and preparing for the construction of his house as though nothing had ever happened.

The next time I took a trip into town I had two notes ready to mail. One was to Nadir, telling him what I was doing with myself. The other was to Jules. I did not think he would come back to work for me, but I thought I might as well give it a try. I would need many things and Jules would be helpful.

I knew I would have to buy a horse or something, walking in and out of town was quite impractical. My home did have a small stable on the property, but it had not been used for some time. It needed repairing before I could house a horse in it.

As I had no time to do this, I had to walk the three miles into town and then back again any time I needed to see Chevalier. I knew the Count would have let me use his coach if I had asked, but I was too proud to admit that I did not own a carriage or a horse. The walk was a hassle, but it _was_ improving my health and stamina.

With in a week of sending out my letters to Paris I had responses. Nadir seemed to be concerned that I was moving to fast back into society and insisted on coming out to visit me. I rather thought it had something to do with the fact that Deauville was a beautiful place to be this time of year.

Jules had turned down my offer to work for me again. He said that he had found another job which he loved and could not possibly leave it. I rather thought it had something to do with his wife and her hatred of me.

It was amazing how fast money could move a project. In no time at all the appropriate people were hired and the ground was being broken. The contractor I had secured was actually rather excited to be working with me. Apparently the man knew Charles Garnier whom I had had the pleasure of working with. It had been Garnier whose design was chosen for the new Paris Opera. However I had offered to assist him free of charge.

I had always gotten along with Garnier and I was glad to hear that he had passed on a good opinion of me, few people did. My first conversation with the contractor, whose name happened to be Raoul Simon (yes I had thought of dismissing him based on the name alone) had gone something like this;

"Monsieur Bonheur," He had said while I surveyed the list of projects he had worked on before; all of which were impressive, "Are you the same man that worked with Garnier on the opera house?"

"Yes," I had looked up in surprise. I was not aware that many people knew I had aided the man in his grate undertaking.

"Charles is a friend of mine," He had explained, "When I told him that Count Chevalier had hired an Erik Bonheur to build him his mansion he became interested…he said that he was not aware of your last name, but the Erik he thought of wore a white mask over half of his face,"

"Yes, that does give me away doesn't it?" I muttered darkly.

"He said that he was very impressed with your talents and that I should try to work with you if I could…he also said you were a fair and generous employer,"

"We shall see," I had said, standing and shaking his hand, "Welcome aboard,"

If Garnier was friends with this man, I saw no reason not to hire him. Once Simon was secured, everything else fell into place easily. In no time at all the ground was being broken.

It was around this time that Nadir came to see me. It was summer now and it must have been a nice prospect for him to get out of the hot city and visit the seaside.

I came out of my house to watch his carriage pull up the driveway. I stood with my arms crossed and waited for him.

"Erik!" He cried as he climbed out of the carriage, "This sea air agrees with you, my God you look a hundred times better!"

I did not know about better, but I did know that I no longer looked so deathly. I was out in the sun more due to the walks into town and then of course the construction site was outside as well. Chevalier provided amazing food so I was not so thin, and I was sleeping better after spending full days instructing the workers on proper building and then having to hike the three miles home. I was so exhausted I fell asleep right away.

"There is no need to flatter me friend," I said, "I am already letting you stay here,"

"You are absolutely impossible," He said, but he was smiling. I rolled my eyes, but the truth was I was happy to see him. On the occasion that I did dream, I often had horrible nightmares about what the angel had shown me of Nadir's death. It still made me ill to think of.

The next day I took Nadir down to the construction site with me.

"Erik," He said as we left the house, "I don't see a carriage…how do you get in to town?"

"Walk," I said simply.

"How far is it?" Nadir asked, clearly afraid to know the answer.

"Three miles,"

"What!"

"Come now, are you telling me that you are that old you can not walk three miles?" I laughed at him, "Besides it will give you plenty of time to entertain me with your chatter,"

"What is the Count like?" Nadir asked me after some time walking.

"Like any other man only more rich," I said quickly.

"Erik, I do not think you realize who you are working for," Nadir continued, "Count Chevalier…he is one of the most prominent men in all of France!"

"He is quite obsessed with it actually," I said, "He has a fear of losing his social position…that is why I am here; he wanted to keep things new and interesting,"

"Well, people are certainly interested," Nadir said, "Erik," He began in a low voice, "Are you ready for this job?"

"Ready for what Nadir?" I laughed, "Chevalier's obsession with attention has nothing to do with me,"

"Are you joking Erik?" Nadir said seriously, "I have already read your name in several papers,"

I was a bit shocked, "Why would a paper mention me?"

"You don't understand Erik, whatever Chevalier does is news, commissioning an unknown architect to build his summer home is news…and therefore so are you," Nadir explained, "I thought you did not want this kind of attention Erik,"

"I do not want it," I said coldly, "However, if it must happen than it must…besides," I added in a quiet voice, "I think this time it will be different,"

Not since Georgette had anyone mentioned the mask. It was clear that none of the men, besides maybe Raoul Simon, wanted to be close friends of mine, but they did not cause problems.

Besides, I had something to take my mind off them completely. Giselle came to the site every day around noon and I would take her though what was being done. She said she came on behalf of her father, who was now back in Paris doing business. However, I hoped she would have come anyway, just to see me.

Every day she grew more and more inquisitive about the design and how it would be realized. It delighted me to give her exact answers to all her questions.

"Erik?" I had been thinking about Giselle and drifted into my own world. My name brought me out of my dream.

"What?"

"Erik I asked you why you thought it would be different this time," Nadir repeated.

"I cannot explain," I said. I did not want to tell Nadir about Giselle. I knew he would not approve of my developing feelings for her as it was quite obvious I could never have her. It would all end in heartbreak again.

"I just think that it will be," I said. Nadir looked rather suspiciously at me and I quickened our pace as though I could out walk his mistrust.

"You know it is not just the Count, it is his daughter too," Nadir said, "He has a daughter—"

"He has three daughters; Giselle, Gemma, and Georgette," I said. If Nadir thought he knew more about this family than I did he was wrong.

"Yes, well it is Gemma…Paris hangs on her every word; they care about everything she says and does," Nadir said.

"And?" I did not understand how that affected me.

"Her father showed her the design you made for him…one of the times I read your name was when she mentioned it; she thinks you are quite talented," Nadir said, and his voice sounded worried.

"So?"

"So! Erik she has said you are good; everyone will want to know who you are now! And what will you do when they start to ask questions?" Nadir said concerned.

"They will not," I said firmly, "No one will care about who I am just because some model mentioned my name,"

"If you think so," Nadir sighed.

He was being ridiculous. No one would be interested in a masked architect just because Gemma Chevalier had paid my work a complement.


	13. Signs

Nadir was most impressed with the site. 

"It seems everything is going along quickly," He commented.

"It is," I said, "But nothing will be rushed or overlooked…this will be the most impressive home in Deauville,"

"That would be saying something," Nadir said, "I had no idea when I found that house for you that Deauville would be like this…I knew Chevalier summered here but I had no idea how many others did as well,"

It was just before noon when Giselle appeared. She always came when the men were on their lunch break. I always appreciated her company at this time of day.

Chevalier had his kitchen staff made food to be carried out to the workers and myself. Simon ate with his men and I knew I could as well, but it would be awkward; they did not like me much.

However when Giselle came, I could take her around the site and then eat with her. 

"Oh my," Nadir gasped as he saw the beautiful figure of Giselle come toward us.

"Erik," She said smiling and greeting me in the way she always did, "Is this the friend you were telling me about?"

"Yes, Giselle Chevalier this is Nadir Khan," I introduced them.

"Pleased to meet you," Giselle said politely.

"The pleasure is mine Mademoiselle," Nadir said, a little too smoothly for my liking, and then kissed her hand. For the rest of the day I made sure that I stood or sat between them.

My actions did not go without being noticed.

"Giselle Chevalier seems to be quite lovely? Rather protective of her aren't you?" Nadir teased me when we had started our walk back at the end of the day.

"I am sure I have no idea what you are talking about," I said huffily.

"Oh I think you do," Nadir said, "Erik…do you have feelings for her?"

"Of course not," I said angrily, "How foolish would I have to be to develop feelings for such a girl?"

"Alright," Nadir and I walked in silence for a moment, "You do know that I know you are laying Erik,"

"I know," I sighed, "I am afraid I am being rather obvious, but I cannot seem to help it,"

"You are not so bad," Nadir comforted me, "At least Giselle Chevalier pretends not to notice,"

"She is a saint, a goddess," I said, "From the moment I met her she has been nothing but wonderful to me," I knew I had fallen in love maybe too quickly with her, but I was not like other men. Her kindness toward me was like scraps to a hungry dog; not only was it devoured, it created a great sense of loyalty.

"I saw that," Nadir said, "She is a very kind woman, not to mention beautiful,"

"She is stunning," I said, "Sometimes I can hardly believe she is real,"

"Does she come to the site every day?" Nadir asked me.

"Yes," I said, "She says her father asked her to, just to keep an eye on our work…but sometimes I think she would come anyway,"

"Erik…perhaps you should stop letting her come," Nadir said slowly.

"Why on earth would I want to do that!" I cried angrily.

"Erik it is clear that you are already quite attached to her, that you love her, but you must be careful…I don't think you are strong enough to take another broken heart," Nadir explained.

"So you think there is no chance she could ever have feelings for me?" I asked him bitterly, I knew Nadir had a point but I didn't want to believe him, "You think I am too much of a monster for her to love?"

"No Erik," Nadir was used to my temper and my self deprecation and he did not react, "I am merely saying, she is a very beautiful, young, rich daughter of a count! Chevalier would not allow her to become involved with you anyway,"

"We could leave then, I have sufficient funds, we would not need her father's money," I said, knowing this would never happen.

"Be realistic Erik, do you think Giselle is the kind of girl who would do that? Would you be willing to ask her to leave all of her family and friends behind?" Nadir said. I did not respond. I knew Nadir was right. I knew that Giselle and I would never be together. I was just a guy with half a face and she was the daughter of a count. She would become a countess or a princess and I would become heart broken again.

And yet I could not help it. I realized that at first I had felt more lust than love for Giselle. It was impossible not to want her, every part of her was perfect and I would not deny that I had thought about how that perfect body would feel next to mine.

The more I was around her though; the more I simply wanted to love her. I remembered the first time she came out to the site.

I had seen her approaching and my mouth had gone dry. It was around noon and quite hot so I was sweating already. This was a good thing because it hid the fact that as Giselle came near, I began to perspire more out of nervousness.

"Good afternoon," Giselle had said sweetly, "I thought I would come and see how the construction is going,"

"Oh…well," I stammered, "Not much has been done yet, you see they are still digging the foundations,"

"Hmm," Giselle looked around, "And what will they do next?"

"The frame will go up next," I explained.

She had smiled at me, "Where did you learn to do all this? To design and to build?"

"Well…" It was a very painful memory. After I had run away from the gypsies I had been taken in by an architect who taught me much about the trade. Unfortunately he had had a daughter. The beautiful young girl had had a foolish crush on me. When she saw what lay under my mask, she had stumbled backwards, tumbling off the porch we had been standing on. She had fallen to her death below.

I did not share all this with Giselle, "I learned in Rome," Was all I told her.

"Our kitchen has made you all lunch," Giselle had said, "Are you going to go and eat?"

I had not planned on it. I had planned on staying away from all the other men I was working with. If that meant going without eating than so be it.

"No," I had said.

"But you must be starving! It's so hot out, aren't you thirsty as well?" Giselle had said in innocent concern.

I stared at the group of men crowded around the food. Giselle followed my gaze. I think she understood. Even if she pretended not to notice, she saw my mask and she knew that made me different. I think she sensed that I was uncomfortable in certain social situations.

"You know, I would like to eat," Giselle had said, "But I would rather not eat with all those men…I get the feeling sometimes that they are just staring at me…would you eat with me? Just the two of us?"

Her request was so sweet it had blown me away. We both knew she was lying for my benefit, but that did not have to be acknowledged. Unable to speak I had nodded and Giselle and I eaten together away from the rest of the workers.

Every day after that she had come around noon and eaten with me. It was perfect; it gave me a good excuse not to eat with the men and it let me have more time with Giselle. That was how I had fallen in love with her, her wit, her intelligence and her beauty. 

As unlikely as a relationship with Giselle seemed, she kept giving me odd hope.

Nadir decided not to come back to the site most days. He preferred spending his days on the beach to walking three miles to the hot construction site and spending all day listening to me obsess about the project.

One of these days, Giselle did something very odd. She had been laughing politely at a stupid joke I had made about mortar.

"Erik, will you walk me home?" She had said suddenly. This day had run longer than most and even though the summer sun lasted into the evening, it was already dusk.

"I did not take the carriage today," She explained, "I walked here, if you would not mind I would rather not walk home alone,"

The Chevalier home was not far from the site, only about half a mile, but even if it had been a hundred miles away I still would have walked her home.

We walked the paved sidewalk through the busy town of Deauville.

"I love this time of day," Giselle said as we went. She was once again tactfully ignoring the fact that I was nervous and bad at carrying on conversation. I would have thought that by now I would be comfortable around her, but I was not.

"The temperature is perfect," She continued, "It gets so hot in the afternoons here but now, the air is so much cooler,"

"Yes," I murmured. I was listening to her, but I was also looking at all the people who were staring at us as we went. Most said hello to Giselle. Some even said hello to me. As no one in Deauville seemed to have anything to do except talk about what their neighbors were doing, everyone knew who I was.

Suddenly Giselle linked her arm though mine. I was shocked. It was such an intimate gesture in my mind. It was the way men and women who were courting walked together.

"Do you sail Erik?" She asked me.

"N-no," I stuttered, I was still reeling from the sensation of her arm hooked around mine.

"Oh sometime you will have to come with us for a sail," Giselle went on, "It is the perfect thing to do on these hot days…do you think you could tear yourself away from the site for a day to sail?" She looked at me, her beautiful blue eyes glistening sweetly.

"I would not risk turning down another invitation from you or your family," I said, trying to smile back at her by my mind was on the feel of her skin as one of her delicate fingers touched my hand. She felt just as smooth and soft as I had imagined.

"Good!" Giselle said, "You will enjoy it I am sure,"

There were a few more moments of silence and then I actually managed to think of something to say.

"How is your horse Venus?" I asked her, "Do you still ride?"

"Sometimes," Giselle nodded, "In the mornings usually, and then I go off to the site…do you ride?"

"I don't have a horse," I admitted.

"I noticed that," Giselle said, "Why don't you have one?"

"The stable at the house is not suitable for an animal," I said, "And as yet I have not had time to make it so,"

"You should make time Erik," Giselle said, her innocent concern was touching, "You shouldn't let building this house consume all of your time,"

"Well what about you?" I asked her, trying to smile although I was still very aware of her arm on mine, "You come everyday…why are you spending so much time at the site?"

"I have my reasons," She said, smiling up at me. My heart skipped several beats.

When we reached her house she thanked me, "I really did not want to walk home alone," She stepped away from me, taking her arm with her; our physical connection was broken.

"It was my pleasure Giselle," I said, and I kissed her hand.

"Are you busy this Saturday Erik? Would you like to escort me to this garden party I have to go to?" She asked.

I must say I almost fell over. Giselle had asked me to go to a party with her…a date? Was this a date? What did she mean by this? Was it possible that she could be…interested in me?

It occurred to me than that I was like a man in a foreign country. I did not know the language, comprehend the signs, or understand the customs of love. 


	14. The Party

Despite my confusion, I still agreed to go. Nadir was not pleased.

"Erik what are you doing!" He asked when I told him what had happened, "This will not turn out the way you want it do, it cannot, don't pursue it!"

"Nadir I love her!" I shouted, "And I think there is a chance that she loves me to! Why shouldn't I pursue it!"

"Because Erik!" Nadir shouted, "The chances are she doesn't love you, and then what will you do? I would hate to see you move backwards after all you have done to get this far,"

"Why not?" I asked him bitterly, "Why can't she love me?"

"You are two very different people," He said, and I knew he was just being reasonable, but I did not want to listen to reason, "For one Erik she is half your age,"

"What does that matter?" I said angrily, "If she is…_interested_ in me I deserve to find out! I deserve to have _someone_…and it is not as though I forced her, she asked me!"

Nadir sighed, "I am just worried about how this will end,"

"It is worth finding out," I said vehemently, "It is worth seeing what could happen,"

"Just be careful Erik," Nadir warned, "Do not get your hopes up too high,"

I glared at him. I realized he had a point of course, but that did not mean I wanted him as my voice of reason. I wanted Giselle.

And so that was why on Saturday I found myself waiting in the foyer of the Chevalier home. Normally I would never have done this. Going to a party was so far out of my comfort zone it might as well have been another country.

I was not the only one waiting. Another man, quite young, stood a few feed away from me, leaning against a wall. He was Claude Bonnay, there to take Georgette.

I felt so nervous I thought I might be ill. I was uncomfortable with crowds; sometimes even the men at the construction were too many for me. No matter what I would always feel like I was being watched and ridiculed.

Then all these thoughts disappeared. Giselle came down the stairs, her sister next to her. However I only had eyes for Giselle. I nearly fell over as my knees became weak. She looked like a vision of beauty. Her long dark hair was piled on top of her head while a few loose curls hung down to rest on her shoulders.

Her dress was ideal for her figure; the front was quite low cut, so much so that I believed if she took too deep a breath she might be in trouble.

"Erik," She smiled as she came down the steps ever so gracefully, "I am sorry to keep you waiting,"

"Not at all," I said, taking her hand.

We took one of Chevalier's carriages to the garden party. It was at the home of the Lord Bernard Arterberry, the hostess being Lady Alexandrine Arterberry. Normally Giselle would have attended with her mother and father, but the Count and Countess were in Paris.

The party was as I had expected. There were many wealthy French and English guests; the best of Deauville. On the exquisite lawn of the Arterberry estate, located just outside of Deauville proper, many tables were set up. Crisp white linins, flowers, and tea.

It was like a nightmare. Never in my wildest dreams would I have wanted to be in a place like this. The guests all had a pompous air about them…none of them ever mentioned my mask, but they did not make me forget I was wearing it. They way they addressed me, the way they would not look directly at me…they knew I was not one of them.

However, the company of Giselle made up for all of this.

"Is this the first time you have been to a garden party?" Giselle asked me when we were sitting down at one of the white covered tables dressed in white, flower patterned china.

I laughed. Did I look like a man who attended many garden parties? "Oh no, I go to them all the time," I said sarcastically.

"You do?" Giselle said in surprise.

"No," I said quickly, I have been told sometimes it is hard to pick up on my sarcasm, "I was just saying that to…I was just trying…"

"Oh!" Giselle laughed, "I understand,"

"God Giselle," Her sister Georgette and her boy were at our table as well, "You wouldn't recognize sarcasm if it bit you on the nose," She shook her head exasperatedly.

"Hush Georgette," Giselle looked angrily at her.

"Alright," Georgette said…a bit sarcastically.

Georgette and Claude Bonnay were interesting to watch. Everything about the way they spoke to each other, the way they looked at each other suggested that they were a couple very much in…lust.

It became clear to me why Giselle would not want to attend this party unescorted. Everyone was in pairs and it would have been very awkward for her. And she had picked me, she could have had anyone and she picked me. This thought was enough to get me though the party.

"Are you sure you don't want to take the carriage home? It would not be a problem," Giselle said to me. We had returned to the Chevalier mansion. Claude and Georgette had disappeared and I was saying goodbye to Giselle.

"No, it is not necessary," I said to her, "I enjoy the walk,"

"If you are sure," She smiled, God she looked gorgeous when she smiled, "Thank you for coming with me today…you really saved me,"

"It was my pleasure," I told her, "You are excellent company Giselle,"

Her face reddened a bit, "You are too kind Erik," And then she put her hands on my shoulders, leaned forward and kissed my unmasked cheek.

I felt my breath catch in my throat and I give much credit to my heart for not stopping.

"Goodbye Erik," She said as she pulled away, "Unfortunately I won't see you for a few days,"

"Oh?" This brought my back from the high I had experienced when I had felt Giselle's lips against my skin.

"Georgette and I are going in to Paris to meet our parents…Gemma is in a show and we are all going to see her," Giselle explained, "Now don't let the new house get ruined while I am gone," Her eyes sparkled with laughter.

"I-I won't," I stuttered. The prospect of Giselle leaving was not one I wanted to accept.

"Goodbye Erik," She said again, and with one last smile she turned and went inside her house.

I stood there and stared at the door for a few moments before I began the walk home. My feelings were mixed; I was not going to see Giselle for 'a few days,' but on the other hand, she had kissed me.

"Well you were gone for a long time," Nadir said when I finally returned home. I had not rushed to return, I was thinking about Giselle and what her feelings for me truly were. This had slowed my pace considerably.

"How did it go?" He asked me.

"As expected…if I never attend another garden party it will be no tragedy," I said dryly.

"And Giselle?" Nadir asked.

I sat down in the living room where I had found Nadir. I sighed and looked at him, "She kissed me,"

"What!"

"On my cheek…but still, a kiss is a kiss," I said.

"Erik," Nadir laughed, "I don't know what to say…my friend I really thought you had no chance, congratulations!"

"Hmm," I said, leaning forward and putting my head in my hands.

"Erik?" Nadir stared at me in my glum state.

"I still don't know how she feels," I told him, "A kiss on the cheek is hardly a declaration of love…and what is worse now that I have…been so close to her I really do love her," Nadir watched me intently as I spoke.

"Maybe you should ask her," Nadir suggested.

"Ask her what?" I asked.

"Ask her how she feels about you," Nadir said slowly.

"No," I said firmly, "I will not risk making an ass out of myself,"

"Erik if you are really tortured by not knowing how she feels, wouldn't it be better to just find out for certain?"

I hated him when he had a point.

The days with Giselle gone left me with plenty of time to consider what to do. I doubted I would tell her that I loved her, or ask her if she loved me. It was just too risky.

Being at the site without here was strange. I missed explaining everything to her, and I missed her enthusiasm as a listener. Of course I also missed watching her beautiful figure walking next to mine.

Lunch was a task. As I was starving, and as Giselle was still not back from Paris, I had to eat with the men.

"Well, look who is joining us today," Raoul Simon laughed as I sat next to him. Already I felt anxious…I was not wanted here.

Simon must have sensed how I felt, "It's not as though any of us blame you," He continued jovially, "If that girl hung on every word I said I would spend all day with her to,"

I felt a little more relaxed, "She is very interested in architecture," I offered.

"She is interested in something," Simon nudged me with his elbow.

As I didn't know what to say to that, I said nothing. In fact, I said relatively little throughout the rest of the day.

Giselle returned a week later. When I saw her coming I felt happy, as I had not since she had left. And then my eyes fell on the girl who was walking next to her.

She was gliding along, confidently surveying the site with cool eyes. Her blond hair was shining in the midday sun and her dress, or rather the way her body looked in her dress, was catching the eyes of all of the men I had working for me. Gemma Chevalier had returned with her family from Paris.


	15. Gemma

"Erik!" Giselle came immediately toward me. To my surprise, she actually embraced me. Maybe she was interested after all.

"How was Paris?" I asked her.

"Fine," She said, "But it is good to be back here," Giselle stepped to the side and motioned toward the tall blond next to her, "Erik this is my younger sister, Gemma Chevalier,"

She gave me her hand. What could I say about Gemma Chevalier? I decided in an instant that whoever had painted the portrait of the Chevalier family should be shot. He had not at all captured Gemma's beauty.

I had never seen a girl look as stunning as Gemma, even Giselle was left behind. No wonder this woman had Paris at her feet. Her features composed a face that was…otherworldly. The fullness of her rosy pink lips, the luminosity of her skin...she truly looked like an angel fallen from the sky.

I stared at her eyes. They were amazing, bright, clear…but that was not the only enamoring quality about them. One of her gorgeous eyes was blue, the other was green. This abnormality did nothing to diminish her beauty. If anything it separated her even more from the mere mortals. No one could look like Gemma Chevalier.

However, there was nothing innocent in her gaze or in her smile. Gemma was unbelievably beautiful, but she lacked the kindness and sincerity made her sister so appealing.

"Gemma this is Erik Bonheur," Giselle finished her introduction.

I brushed my lips against the soft skin of her hand as lightly as I could. I felt as though she would not want me touching her.

"Pleased to meet you at last," Gemma said. I had to admit, the sound of her voice was pure music, "From what I have heard you are quite talented,"

"Thank you Mademoiselle," I said, feeling just as uncomfortable with Gemma as I used to feel with Giselle.

"Mademoiselle?" Gemma laughed in an almost careless manner, "The only person who calls me 'mademoiselle' is my carriage driver," She shook her head, "Call me Gemma,"

"Come Erik," Giselle said, and I felt my heart rate quicken as she grabbed onto my arm, "Show Gemma the work you have been doing,"

Gemma Chevalier proved to be the polar opposite of Giselle. She did not care at all about the construction we were undertaking and she was not afraid to show that. Her behavior reminded me of those opera diva's I had such problems with. She was demanding, jaded, and rude.

However she was even more dangerous than most divas. When Gemma said something, no one rolled their eyes behind her back or thought her annoying. All would worship Gemma Chevalier.

But I didn't care at all about Gemma. Giselle had her hand in mine throughout the whole day. She was never an inch away from my side. I was sure…I was sure she had feelings for me.

I was so happy I was ready to tell her. The next day I planned on telling her that I loved her. Only, the next day she did not come. Around noon I was waiting for her as usual. I saw Gemma striding towards the site and I looked behind her for Giselle. But Giselle was not there.

Gemma walked straight for me. She had a worried look on her face.

"Where is Giselle?" I asked her, no longer caring what she looked like. I was not afraid to talk to her; I needed answers.

Gemma looked up at me; even though she was tall I still had three inches on her. The look in her blue eye and green eye was almost pained.

"Dear God, is she alright? She isn't hurt is she?" I asked, grabbing Gemma's shoulder and shaking her a bit. I knew I was getting out of hand, but I needed to know where Giselle was.

"No Erik," Gemma sighed, "We need to talk," She led me away from the site towards the beach.

"Alright that is enough," I said, stopping, "What is going on here? Where is Giselle?"

Gemma turned to face me, "Giselle is engaged Erik," She said.

"What?" I gaped at her.

"Giselle is engaged to a man named Fernand Deniau, he is a vicomte," Gemma told me, an apologetic look in her eyes.

Her words killed me. It was an odd sense but not wholly unfamiliar; my heart was ripped from my chest. I felt like crying, I felt like yelling, I felt like crawling away and never being seen by anyone ever again.

"H-how?" I asked, and I felt tears welling up in my eyes, "H-how can that be? I thought…God I can't believe what I thought!" Anger took hold of me and I wanted to hit something, I wanted to destroy something as this news had destroyed me.

"She didn't know that you loved her Erik," Gemma said, "She thought…well,"

I stared at her and Gemma looked away.

"What did she think?" I demanded angrily, "Tell me what she thought!"

Gemma looked back at me, a hesitant expression in her eyes, "I don't want to,"

I lost it. Stepping forward I grabbed Gemma tightly by the shoulders, holding her so forcefully I must have hurt her. But I didn't care. It didn't matter to me that some of the men were staring or that I was probably scaring the wits out of a girl I hardly knew.

Giselle did not love me. After I had been so sure, after I had finally let myself believe that she could love a man like me…none of it was true. I had imagined all of it.

Gemma tried to break away from my iron grip but to no avail. She glared back at me when I would not let her go.

"She thought that you and that friend N something were _lovers_," She said vindictively.

That got her what she wanted. I practically pushed her away, "What!" I cried. Of all things, this was the last I would have expected.

Gemma rubbed her shoulders and glared at me, "If you bruised me, I swear to God I will kill you,"

"She thought I was…she thought I was…?" I stared bewildered at her.

She shook her head, "You are too pathetic looking right now for me to be angry with you; listen Erik, there is something you have to understand about my sister, she is incredibly nice to everyone no matter what…and she doesn't always comprehend what is really going on,"

"She thought I was…?" I still stammered.

"She thought there was something off with you, it was probably the mask that did it…made you seem strange, not made you seem like you were interested in men…I actually think it looks rather dashing, mysterious, where did you get that thing?"

I was still so focused on this awful happening with Giselle I did not even care that she was asking me about the mask.

When I did not respond Gemma went on, "I understand…now is not the time…anyway Erik you must understand, you talked about your friend…um…"

"Nadir," I whispered unbelievingly. Oh God, he was going to have a field day with this! Even if I did not tell him what Giselle had thought about me, he would still know that we were not together. He had been right all along.

"Nadir! That's the name…strange name…it means 'lowest point' does it not?" Gemma asked.

"Yes," I hissed angrily though clenched teeth, "Fitting no?"

Gemma nodded, "Well anyway, you spoke of him to her and she just thought…a man coming out and staying with you…and you are not married…she just assumed,"

"Oh my God!" I cried, "This is _unbelievable_! I _loved_ her!" I was yelling angrily at Gemma, "I really loved her! All this!" I motioned to the site around us, "All this was for her! I did all this because I was inspired to by HER!"

"I am sorry," Gemma said, but I was not listening to her.

"Why then?" I continued on my rave, "Why did she do all those things? Why did she invite me to that party? Why did she want me to walk her home!"

To my surprise, Gemma had an answer, "Well at first she just wanted to be nice to you, and then when she thought you were with that Nadir person, she though you would be the perfect date because you would not try anything on her,"

"Are you serious?" I asked her, now my rage was subsiding a bit and I just wanted to slink away.

"I am afraid so…you see, you are not the only man who has fallen in love with her; she is getting married at the end of the summer and she thought you were just a good, no hassle…friend,"

"I loved her," I whispered, "I really thought that this might happen,"

Gemma actually seemed sympathetic to my situation, or at least as sympathetic as a beautiful Parisian socialite could be, "It will be alright," She said to me, "Other men have fallen in love with her and she has turned them down and they lived,"

"I am not like other man," I said quietly.

What was I supposed to do now? Every woman I had ever loved had not returned my affections. Even after a divine experience with an _angel_ I still could not get it right.

I walked back to the site.

"Simon," I barked; he came over to me, "You take over, I am leaving,"

"Where are you going?" Gemma was following me.

"Away," I said gruffly.

"Giselle wanted me to make sure you did not get too upset," Gemma called after me.

"Not get upset?" I said, whirling around to face her, "The woman I loved not only did not know I loved her, she actually thought that I was—"

Gemma stopped me from continuing by placing her hand over my mouth. It was then that I realized the entire construction crew was staring at me. I would have to remember to thank Gemma later for not letting me completely embarrass myself.

I took a deep breath, "I have to get out of here,"

Gemma nodded, "I think that would be a fine idea, come with me," and with that she was gliding off toward the carriage she had taken here.

"I am going home," I said to her, turning away toward the rout back to my home.

"No you are not," Gemma grabbed me and pulled me along with her.

"Why?" I asked her wretchedly, "Why can't you just leave me alone to wallow in my own grief and humiliation in peace?"

"Not my style," She said with a sly smile, "Besides, it is more fun for me this way,"

"Why on earth would having me come with you be fun for you?" I said dejectedly.

"Because if I let you leave you will probably kill yourself in a fit of desperation brought on by unrequited love; and since you blame me for all of this because I am the one who told you what Giselle really thought, you will come back as a ghost and haunt me and I really do not like ghosts," Gemma rattled all this off without missing a beat.

"Your reasoning is…" I said, stunned by her answer.

"Astounding?" Gemma asked smiling. I could not help but notice that she looked absolutely beautiful, damn woman.

"Idiotic," I corrected her.

Gemma's smile was nothing like Giselle's. Giselle was sweet and innocent, Gemma's was conniving. I feared for what she had in store for me.

"Charming," Gemma said dryly, "Get in the carriage,"

With no other apparent choice, I got in the carriage.


	16. Deauville

I had never been farther into town that Chevalier's mansion. Deauville was a much different place than I had imagined. It was very much like Paris in the downtown areas, the only difference was the ever present view of the Atlantic.

The carriage stopped. I was quite far off in my own world and I hardly noticed. Gemma cleared her throat and I turned to her.

"The door," She said, motioning to the carriage door.

"Honestly," I muttered, opening the door, getting out and holding it for Gemma.

Gemma set off at a quick pace. I noticed that when she walked, she did not do it like most women. She was more graceful, but also…I guess you could say she had attitude in every step.

"Where are you taking me?" I asked miserably, now wishing I was out of the city more than ever. Everyone was staring at Gemma, some even stopped to watch her. While she paid no mind to them, I could not help but notice their eyes sliding to me, and then they would quickly look away or whisper something to a comrade.

"You make it sound as though I kidnapped you!" Gemma laughed, "I am only planning on taking you out to lunch…if it is done properly it should not hurt at all,"

"So you say," I said listlessly.

Gemma led me to a place on the corner of two roads. The sign read La Pomme d'Or. We came to the door and stood for a moment.

"Erik," Gemma looked imploringly at me.

It took me a moment but then I understood, "Do you have some physical or mental defect which prevents you from opening a door?" I asked her as I held the door open for her to pass though before me.

"Do you have some physical or mental defect which prevents you from remembering to open a door for a woman?" Gemma shot back.

Her words struck my as quite ironic…ironic along with hurtful.

"You might say that," I muttered. I did have a physical defect, and perhaps, if I had not had it, I would have been accepted into society. Then maybe I would not forget to do things other men did without thinking for women.

But I did have a physical defect. There was no way around it, there was no forgetting it…there was no living with it. And Giselle, the kindest, most beautiful woman I had ever met…she did not love me, not at all.

I had to get out; suddenly being inside the restaurant was unbearable. I had to leave this place, this town…I had to go home. I did not care about the house I was building for Chevalier, I did not care about anything.

Without a word to Gemma I turned and left.

"Erik!" Gemma was following me. I remembered when Giselle had chased me when I had tried to walk out on her family after the incident with Georgette. I had been foolish enough to fall for a woman's charms then, but not now. I did not stop walking.

"Erik," Gemma grabbed my arm and tried to stop me. She could not, but she also refused to let go so I just dragged her along with me, "Erik this is ridiculous! Where are you going?"

"Let go," I yanked me arm away, "I have had enough of you women!" I turned and faced her, "Your sister broke my heart, and you…I don't even know you and you drag me out here and insult me--"

Gemma stared at me, "How did I insult you?"

I realized she had not meant to say what she had said about a physical defect, but it had still hurt. I knew I should not hold her responsible for her inadvertent insult, she did not know what was beneath the mask. Shaking my head I began to walk away again.

Gemma Chevalier was not one to let someone walk away from her though. In three quick strides of her long legs she was in front of me. She placed her hand on my chest and stopped me, "Whatever I said, I never meant to insult you…now stop being so stubborn and come have lunch with me,"

I stared sullenly at her, "Why? Why do you care what I do or where I go?"

"To be honest," Gemma said, "I hate coming to Deauville because all we ever do is sit and drink tea and do other mundane things I simply abhor; if I do not stay here and have lunch with you, I will have to eat alone or go home and sit in the parlor and listen to all the gossip my mother thinks is interesting,"

Gemma searched my eyes, "And if you go home, all you will do is ask yourself, over and over again, how the hell did this happen? But if you stay here, I can actually give you some answers,"

I raised my eyebrows, "You can tell me how your sister came to the conclusion that I was in a relationship with a man?"

Gemma nodded, "Come with me and I promise we will get to the bottom of this…maybe a restaurant was not the best choice,"

We walked along the wooden planked wharf. I noted that Gemma linked her arm through mine.

"Alright, question one, what is this?" I asked her, tugging her arm.

"Whenever I walk with anyone, man or woman, I always link arms," Gemma shrugged, "I never thought anything of it,"

"So it means nothing," I said, feeling my heart sinking as I remembered when Giselle had done this. I had thought it was more than just a conditioned habit.

"Nothing," Gemma said.

"What was it?" I asked, unable to keep the question inside me anymore, "What made Giselle think…what she thought," I was so embarrassed I could hardly say it out loud.

"Honestly it is not really your fault, I mean I never thought for a moment that you were gay, I knew the instant I saw you look at Giselle that you loved her," Gemma said, looking around us lazily at the scene we were walking though.

It was a hot, sunny day and the Atlantic Ocean was sparkling. There were many boats in the harbor, people running back and forth, unloading and loading. On the wharf people were still staring at Gemma. I supposed she was more well-known than I had imagined.

"The way you were acting was most obviously heterosexual," Gemma said and I was a bit surprised, I had not thought Gemma would be willing to say so much, "I mean, when I first met you I saw your eyes move from hips to chest to eyes,"

"Oh God," I muttered, turning a bit red, I had had no idea I had done that so noticeably…but of course I had looked at her hips and chest and then her eyes.

"Don't worry Erik, all men do it…and all men think women don't notice," Gemma laughed, "And I saw how you looked at Giselle, I saw the way you would react when she touched you…I think it was clear to everyone _except_ Giselle,"

"So when she would, hold my hand…when she kissed my cheek…she did it because—?" I asked.

"She did not think it would mean anything because she thought you were…attracted to men," Gemma said shaking her head, "Giselle can be very dense sometimes,"

"Then…you don't…you would not think that I was—?" I asked her tentatively.

"No, I already told you and believe me I know; I work around fashion, I know what a man acts like when he is not attracted to women...as I have said, it is all in the eyes…gay men stare at your brooches, other men stare at your breasts," Gemma seemed to have no trouble at all speaking about these…less proper matters. I could not imagine Giselle talking to me about breasts...although trying to was not an altogether unappealing endeavor.

"I hope you will not feel too badly about this in the end," Gemma went on, "Giselle is very much in love with this Vicomte Deniau; even if she wasn't, my father would never let her marry anyone without an inherited title, and as Giselle would never do anything against our father's wishes, you were more or less out of luck anyway,"

"I do not quite understand," I said, "Your father, he wants to change as French society changes, why would he insist on Giselle marrying a man with an inherited title? I was under the impression that money was his main concern,"

"First, you just said some very mean things about my father, but I will ignore that because you just got your heart broken," Gemma said. She spotted a man who was selling home made ice cream out of a small stand on the wharf. She walked over to him and placed an order before she answered my question.

"My father is not completely without a sense of tradition, and titles still are very important no matter what the bourgeoisie say, and," She paid the man and got her ice cream, "My father knows that I will most likely go off and do something crazy like marry a starving artist from New York …he knows I will never marry a man with a title, so you see it is very clever; one daughter is traditional, and one is not…he appeals to both the middle and upper class,"

"And what of Georgette?" I asked.

"No one really cares about Georgette," Gemma said in a matter of fact voice. She was licking her ice cream in the most tantalizing way and I tried not to stare.

"See that," Gemma said, still eating her ice cream in that very alluring way, "You are most defiantly not gay," She smiled playfully.

I turned bright red, "You are certainly forward,"

Gemma shrugged, "It usually gets me what I want,"

"You are nothing like your sister," I said, it had gotten so hot outside I wished I had bought ice cream from the man as well.

Gemma laughed, "No, Giselle and I are like night and day…she likes to sit in grand parlors and go to garden parties…that is just not the life for me,"

"I took her to a garden party," I said soberly, remembering a time when I had thought the perfect woman might be in love with me.

"Oh God!" Gemma burst into a fit of laughter, "I cannot imagine you at a garden party!"

"Why not?" I asked a bit offended; I wished people could see me as any other man.

"Can _you_ imagine _you_ at a garden party?" Gemma asked me, raising her eyebrows, "You must have really loved her to allow her to subject you to that,"

"I will admit…it was not the best time I have ever had," I said truthfully, "But it was not completely un enjoyable,"

"I'm sure…you probably were too busy staring at my sister to notice much else," Gemma teased me, "Alright let me ask you something…what is it about my sister? What is it about Giselle that makes men fall so deeply in love with her so quickly?"

I sighed, "For one there is her beauty, that is what caught my eye first…and then there is her kindness, that is why I think I fell in love with her, she was so kind to me,"

"Well then I guess I have no hope," Gemma laughed, "I could never be so sweet and nice as Giselle is,"

"But I read your name in the paper…it said that you had just left some poor man broken hearted, you do not seem to have any problem with love," I said.

Gemma simply shrugged, "Men do not love _me_, they love the idea of me; of courting a famous model, and that is not good enough…besides most men tend to bore me after awhile, so I leave them,"

"So then you have never been in love?" I asked her.

"Not to my knowledge no," Gemma was still eating her ice cream in a very content manner. It seemed that never falling in love was not something that bothered her.

"Wait until you fall for someone," I said grimly, "You can't sleep, you can't eat…all you think about is what she is doing…" I trailed off.

"Really?" Gemma said, "Giselle seems content and she says she is in love…but then again Giselle would say she was content even if she was on fire,"

"Well beauty makes it possible for one to be happy," I said bitterly, "Giselle can be happy when she is in love because she can be sure this _Deniau _man loves her,"

"So you are telling me that men only truly love beautiful women? Maybe there is hope for me after all," She smiled at me.

"You of all people should know, advantages are given to people who are beautiful," I said angrily.

"And you do not think that is fair?" Gemma asked me.

"Of course it is not fair!" I cried.

"Well, it is not as though it is one's fault if others find them attractive and therefore give them special treatment…people like you give people like me the power to walk all over them," She turned to me, "Ice cream?" She offered me the rest.

I did not know what to say to her, but I did take her ice cream.

Gemma talked me into returning to the restaurant she had tried to take me to earlier. I had gotten used to eating every day around noon. Now that I had missed that meal I was starving.

This time I opened the door for Gemma without her having to ask me to.

"Ah! You are learning," She praised me, "Now, we are approaching a table, what do you think you should---?"

I sighed. I knew what to do for God's sake! I was just not used to doing it. I pulled out her chair for her.

"Excellent Erik!" Gemma sat down gracefully, "With my help I think you will be a very good date,"

"I do not intend to ever be anyone's date," I said darkly.

Gemma shook her head, "Just because my sister broke your heart does not mean you can give up on relationships…many people I know go through countless bad relationships before they find the right one,"

"How comforting," I muttered wryly.

"Ahh sarcasm," Gemma sighed in overdramatic bliss, "Not essential for a proper suitor, but it is one of my personal favorite attributes,"

I shrugged, "Giselle did not seem to appreciate it,"

"No, she was never one for sarcasm," Gemma said in a careless tone, "She could never quite pick up on it…I swear Georgette and I needed a translator for her,"

"Georgette and Giselle, do they get on very well?" I asked Gemma, remembering that the two had never quite seemed to mix. I wondered what it was like to have a sibling to fight with or…to get along with for that matter.

Gemma shook her head, "They both are more tradition minded than I am, but in a completely different way. Giselle is the kind, docile one and Georgette is the rich snob,"

"And you are?" I asked her.

Gemma grinned widely, "I am indefinable,"

"You are ridiculous," I shook my head.

I spent the rest of my afternoon with Gemma. She was an entertaining person; the stories she had gathered over the years she had traveled as a model were quite amusing.

However Gemma's main attribute was her rich knowledge on the topic of love. If love was a foreign country to me, than Gemma was my native guide. I learned more from her in an afternoon than I had on my own in a lifetime.

She never asked me about the mask. In fact, she never asked me about myself or my history at all. Gemma was content to talk about her, and I think anything I said about me went in one ear and then out the other. Not that it was a problem; I did not need her prying into my past.

In the end I allowed Gemma to take me home in her carriage. As we passed the Chevalier home I asked her,

"Shouldn't the carriage stop here? Then you could go home…I do not need you to escort me," I said dryly.

"Stop here!" Gemma sounded scandalized, "Why would I stop here? My family is here!"

"You were gone for some time!" Nadir came out and greeted me. I had been gone longer than normal. When Gemma started talking about herself there was no stopping her.

Nadir had been sitting in the kitchen eating when I had come in. However, his face went white and he nearly fell off his seat when he saw who was with me.

Gemma had invited herself in to see my home.

"Gemma Chevalier, this is Nadir Kahn, Nadir this is Gemma Chevalier,"

Nadir was much more excited about meeting Gemma Chevalier than I had been. He stuttered though a how do you do.

"So this is your _lover_?" Gemma asked me with a devilish smile on her face. I had known her for a little over a day and already she was proving hard to tolerate.

"Erik what the hell have you been telling people!" Nadir looked angrily at me.

I sighed, "I am going to let you explain this Gemma, as the story brings you much more amusement that it brings me," I left the two of them and busied myself with making a stiff drink.

"Giselle thought you and Erik were _together_," Gemma re told the story with a kind of wicked delight. At first she had been sympathetic, but as the day had drawn on she had found my miserable circumstances more and more entertaining.

Nadir turned and stared at me, "Erik--?"

"Yes?" I asked, downing a particularly large glass of Scotch.

"Where did she get that idea?" Nadir asked, taking the Scotch away from me as I poured another glass. Nadir knew I was not a particularly pleasant drunk…in fact he knew that I was not a particularly pleasant man.

"I mentioned you were coming to stay and I suppose," I looked at Nadir with a grim smile on my face, "Since I am…"

"Old," Gemma supplied the word I had been trying to find a more delicate substitute for.

"Since I am not a young man anymore," I corrected angrily, "And I am unmarried she came to the conclusion that I…" my voice trailed off.

"But I thought that the relationship between you two was going along so nicely," Nadir said, and he watched me with sad eyes as I found a bottle of wine and un corked it.

"I thought precisely the same thing," I found another glass and poured for Nadir and myself, "A toast to fools," I said, raising my glass before emptying it. Nadir drank as well.

"Not offering a guest a drink is considered bad manners," Gemma said dryly.

"You are _not_ a guest," I informed her with a kind of detached anger. The truth was, she was many things… conceited, biting, brazen, rude, unapologetic…but she was also amusing. More than that, she was a pleasant site to the eyes. All things considered, I could not really be angry at her…I did not even know her.

So, despite my words, I did not mind that she had chosen to follow me home.

"You invited yourself into my home," I reminded her, "Some would consider _that_ bad manners,"

"Touché monsieur," Gemma said, bowing slightly, "Now pour,"

"Pour me some wine _please_ is I believe what you meant mademoiselle," I said with a sardonic smile as I poured her a glass.

"Is that not what I said?" Gemma asked innocently.

She stayed for another hour before finally going home. She had to hit her carriage driver in the head to get him to wake up. The poor man had been kept waiting for some time as Gemma carelessly sat in my kitchen drinking my wine.

"Erik?"

"What?"

"Please do not tell me that you are moving from one unattainable sister to the other?" Nadir gave me a scrutinizing stare.

I laughed outright, though there was no humor in the sound, "Do you really think I am that much of a fool? Gemma Chevalier!" I laughed again, "No Nadir, though I do admit I find her mildly amusing, I will not, cannot, fall in love with her,"

"Remember those words my friend," Nadir said to me, and then he muttered under his breath, "I have the awful feeling you will be eating them later,"

I did not hear him say this. I was lost in my own thoughts, "Well Nadir I think you have to congratulate me," I said warily, "I was just beginning to heal from Christine and I managed to completely break my heart all over again,"

"It was not your fault this time Erik," Nadir said kindly.

"The hell it wasn't," I grumbled, "How many times did you tell me that she would never love me? Even I knew it was not possible and yet…" I shook my head, "How do I end up in these messes?"

"Love is a tricky thing friend," Nadir said.

"The only trick I will never master," I muttered glumly.


	17. Unexpected Reaction

I had returned the construction site the next day to find a not so pleasant surprise. It seemed that the ground had given way under part of the foundations. So close to the ocean I was not really surprised that there were underground reservoirs which eroded the soil. Essentially, part of the house had been build over a sink hole.

Scrambling to find a solution before anything else fell through I had devised a pump which would take some of the water away. The rest would have to be diverted and pooled.

It was actually not so terrible a crisis. Yes it would slow down construction, but the hectic rush to fix the problem had been…exhilarating. After my personal tragedy the day before, it was good to throw myself into work.

In doing this I had earned much more respect from the men I had working for me. When Raoul Simon had rushed up to me to inform me of the problem, they had suspected me to be angry, frustrated, frantic…but I had risen to the challenge.

"I see why Garnier thought so highly of you," Simon said as we watched the salt water being pumped away.

"Charles Garnier?" One of the other men standing near us spoke to me for the first time since the job had began, "You know Charles Garnier?"

I simply nodded.

"He worked with him on the Paris Opera," Simon bragged on my behalf, "Without this man Charles said the opera would never have been completed,"

By noon the day had become hotter than any we had previously endured. The mask made me absolutely miserable. I was sweating so badly all I wanted to do was rip it off. It always rubbed painfully against my skin, but with the added discomfort of the extreme heat I was in hell. The knowledge that I could not take the damn thing off was agonizing.

When lunch came there was a stampede to get out of the sun and sit under the shade of the tent set up for this purpose. Everyone was dirty from trying to set up a pump in the mud, sweating from the work it the hot sun, and exhausted.

My heart sank to my empty stomach when I saw that Gemma Chevalier had accompanied the food to the site. I worried that if Gemma was there, Giselle might be to. I did not think I could face her ever again, let alone now when I looked like hell.

But Giselle had not come; only Gemma was there.

"What are you doing here?" I asked her, and I could not help but be a bit self conscious of the fact that my normally pristine clothing was spattered with mud.

"Why are you covered in mud?" Gemma disregarded my question for a more pressing one; her own.

"There was an accident," I said simply.

"I assumed," Gemma looked me up and down. I shifted under her green and blue gaze. The two different colored eyes made her almost frighteningly attractive. She was a beautiful woman no matter what else I thought about her. To be inspected by her made me feel very insecure.

"Will it set back the construction?" Gemma asked, and she sat down between myself and Raoul Simon. She did not seem to notice or care that all the men were gaping at her.

"Well, we will have to re do quite a bit," I said truthfully, "Why? I thought you did not care about this project?"

"Of course I don't care," Gemma said offhandedly, "But I do try to be polite,"

"Try harder," I muttered.

"Hello," Gemma turned to the other men at the table. I think she took a sick pleasure in knowing that all of them were gawking at her. None could even summon up a hello to respond to her.

I was surprised by them all. They had seen Giselle, who was just as beautiful as Gemma, and none had problems talking to her. But then, I supposed Gemma's fame had something to do with it.

"Do not be afraid to talk to her," I addressed the men eating with us, "She is no lady,"

Gemma elbowed me hard in the stomach. I choked on the food I had been chewing.

She stayed for the rest of the afternoon. Though she was there she showed no interest whatsoever in the building or the construction process, not like Giselle had.

"If you find all of this so boring, why did you come here?" I asked her as she looked dully at everything in front of her.

"Because I find you amusing," She answered without hesitation, "As entertainment is lacking in my home, I chose to come here,"

"How flattering," I said, and though I used a sarcastic tone, I admit I was a bit pleased. _Gemma Chevalier_ thought _I_ was amusing. But there was one thing I had to know right from the beginning.

"What do you think?" I asked her, "About the mask?"

Gemma fixed me with a kind of bored stare, her trademark eyes looked me up and down, "I don't give a damn about your mask," She said simply.

"So you do not wonder why I wear it?"

"I could care less,"

That was how our odd friendship began. Truly, at first I did not consider it a friendship at all. I believed Gemma thought of me as her tool for amusement. She was rarely kind to me; she would often mock the things I said or did.

Odd though it was, nothing she said bothered me overmuch. It was her way of having a conversation. She knew I would respond with some insult or other and it pleased her. Gemma would ask me why I was so enthusiastic about something as un glamorous as concrete; I would ask her exactly when the devil had sent her up from the underworld to plague mankind. We got along well enough.

And then one day, a few weeks after meeting her, my opinion of her was changed forever.

It started off as a lunch like any other, Gemma arriving when the food did. There was a large spread of various items. Usually it was the same things every day, but today we had something different.

"The things that look like giant bananas," Gemma was explaining, "My father got them as a gift from a few trader friends in Africa; they are called Plantains,"

I had never had a Plantain before and so I decided to try one. Not ten minutes later I had a strange feeling in my throat. I felt as though my air pip was closing…I could not breathe.

"Erik?" I heard Gemma's beautiful voice through the haze growing over me. I felt dizzy…I needed to sit down.

My legs collapsed under me and I fell. Still, I hardly noticed. My mind felt fuzzy and my sight was blurring. I knew what was happening; I was having an allergic reaction to the damn Plantain.

I tried to speak, though I don't know what I tried to say. Then everything went black.

"You have to help him!"

"Yes mademoiselle, do you know what happened?"

"No! We were eating and then he fainted!"

"What did he eat?"

"Um…"

I tried to tell Gemma that it had been the Plantain but my throat was still too swollen to allow me to speak.

Upon regaining consciousness I heard the voice of Gemma and also of a man I did not know. I could not begin to guess where I was or what was going on. The only thing I was really sure of was that I was lying on my back.

"A Plantain! Could it have been that?" Gemma finally remembered.

"Ah I see," The man, I hoped he was a doctor, said, "Let me get this mask off first—"

I felt a cold chill run through my body. I could not stop him, I could not warn him...

I heard him gasp and then footsteps as he rushed away.

"Where in hell do you think you are going!" I heard Gemma yell angrily.

I was dying. I could not breath, I felt my face had swelled and I knew I could not stay conscious much longer.

All of my effort went into saying one word and hoping Gemma would hear and that she would understand.

"Epinephrine," I managed to whisper the word. But then there was no more. I could not stay awake any longer. I had the awful feeling that I was closing my eyes for the last time. And I thought; why did the angel save me for this?

"Studied?"

I was shocked. I was conscious again…I was still alive. My throat was no longer so tight and I could breathe again. My body felt exhausted, as though I had just run a marathon.

I could hear voices. I heard Gemma speaking to the man who had removed my mask.

"What the hell do you mean studied!" Gemma was shouting angrily.

"That face," The man said in a quiet voice, trying to calm Gemma's anger, "I have never seen anything like it! It is a medical anomaly and it must be examined,"

Suddenly I wished I was dead.

"Listen to me you feckless buffoon, you nearly killed him! Running off to vomit in the bathroom, what kind of doctor are you!" Gemma was shouting at the top of her lungs. I heard a smack and I assumed that Gemma had slapped his face.

I felt sick to my stomach as well. The sight of my face had made a doctor ill…

"If you ever breathe a word of what his face looks like to anyone," Gemma continued in a brutal tone, "The medical world will be studying how I shoved your leg down your throat, is that clear!"

The man said nothing so Gemma yelled at him again, "Is that clear!"

"Yes mademoiselle," The man said meekly.

I must have passed out again because the next thing I remembered I was being half carried into my home by two people. Whoever they were they laid my on the sofa in my living room. When they stepped back I saw who they were; Nadir and Gemma.

"Erik can you hear me?" Gemma asked me, and her voice was so kind and sweet I hardly recognized it. She was kneeling before me and staring intently at me.

It must have been night because there was a fire going. Gemma looked so beautiful in the fire light. The shadows cast by the flames caressed her perfect features; her large eyes, her soft cheeks, her full lips…

My thoughts were still coming to me randomly and I could not control them. Without even realizing what I was doing I reached out with one hand and cupped one side of her face. I ran my thumb across the plain of her cheek; I wanted to see if it was as smooth as I thought it would be.

Gemma's reaction did not stun me then, but it would later. I was glad Nadir was there to witness it because I would not believe it if he had not confirmed its truth.

She took her hand and placed it over mine on her cheek. Her touch was light against the top of my hand and the sensation of her skin sent a tingling shiver through me.

Gemma turned her head in my hand. She pressed her velvety lips against the palm of my hand in a light kiss.

I felt another shock of electricity surging through me. I wanted to keep my hand there against her lips forever, just soaking in the feel of her lips, but my body would not let me.

Strength gone, I had to drop my hand to my lap.

My eyes were still locked on Gemma as she smiled at me. Leaning forward on her knees, she pressed another light, heavenly kiss to my forehead. If I had not been half unconscious I might have died of shock.

However all I was concentrating on in that moment were senses. The feel of her lips against even my forehead was more pleasurable than anything I had felt in a long time. I could not help but imagine how they would feel if they were pressed to my own lips…

"Go to sleep Erik," Gemma said kindly as she drew away, still smiling at me.

Her wish was my command.


	18. Like a Dream

I woke the next morning with a pounding headache. Still shaky I sat up and eased myself off the sofa. My body was rather stiff from sleeping on a piece of furniture which was too small for me. I stumbled into the kitchen.

"Erik!" Nadir looked worried, "Are you well enough to stand?"

"Well I _am_ standing, aren't I?"

"Good too see that nothing has happened to your wit," Nadir gave me a relieved smile.

I rubbed the base of my neck with my hand, "What happened?" I had been aware of the situation while it had been progressing, but in the morning light I realized it had been like having a dream. What had been so clear the night before was now vague …

"You had an allergic reaction to a Plantain of all things," Nadir shook his head, "Honestly Erik when will you stop these antics that bring you so close to death?"

"I had never had one before!" I cried out in my defense, "I could not know that I was deathly allergic,"

Nadir continued with his story, "Gemma rushed you to her family doctor…who I guess had a bad reaction to your face,"

"I heard," I muttered darkly, "I managed to regain consciousness just long enough to be completely humiliated,"

Nadir shook his head, "He didn't; Gemma heard what you said, she yelled at the doctor until he told her where it was…she gave you the injection that saved your life,"

"H-how did she know what to do?" I stuttered in amazement. If I thought about it logically, there was no way Gemma had the medical know how required to administer a shot. However, the day before, hadn't I been telling _her_ what I needed? Was it possible that by some miracle we had both connected on what to do?

"I have no idea,"

"Where is she now?" I asked Nadir, "I need to thank her,"

"She went home for the night," Nadir said, "She promised she would return to check on your condition,"

"Did…did she _kiss_ me last night Nadir?" I asked him trying to remember if it had been real or if I had been dreaming.

"She did," By his tone he was just as surprised as I was, "I dear say she cares for you,"

I snorted, "Just as Giselle did I suppose,"

Gemma did not keep me waiting for long. She rushed into the house, without knocking, not twenty minutes later.

"Erik!" She burst into the kitchen where Nadir and I were still sitting.

"Yes?" I asked.

By the look on her face I believe she thought she would find me lying out on the sofa in a deathly state. She seemed surprised to see me alive.

"Are you feeling better? You look better," She said. She came to my side and inspected me, "You should take that mask off," She scolded. I had found the mask by the sofa in the morning and immediately placed it on my face.

"I believe it will be better for everyone's stomach if I leave it on," I said dryly.

Gemma stared at me with an odd expression on her face. She blinked her one blue eye and her one green eye. Then, without warning, she burst into tears.

I was shocked. Two days ago I had not even believed that this girl could cry and now she was hysterical.

"Hold me you idiot!" She cried.

Caught completely off guard I slowly moved towards Gemma. I took her slim form into my arms. I felt her wrap her arms around my back and her head rested against my shoulder.

"I thought you were going to die!" She was still sobbing, "I thought you were going to die right in front of me when that doctor ran away,"

Her body was shaking and I held her tighter in an attempt to make her stop. I stood in awe, she actually _cared_ about me. I stroked her silky blond hair and whispered in her ear that I was fine, that she had done well.

"How did you know how to inject the shot?" I asked her gently.

She sniffled, I could never have imagined such a seemingly strong girl falling apart like this, "I have met people who use needles," I knew what she meant. I was not the only person to become addicted to morphine or other such drugs.

"Doctor Vert told me to inject it into your thigh so I did," She buried her face in my shoulder.

That made sense. And then I had a thought…my thigh…my pants had not been ripped…

"Did…did you press the needle _though_ my clothes?" I asked her hopefully.

At this she laughed. Not her normal, loud entertained laughter but a short chuckle none the less. I was a bit relieved.

"_That_ is what you are thinking about?" She asked me shakily, her face remained snugly on my shoulder.

"It was only a question," I said. I waited for her to answer it; when she did not I asked again, "So did you?"

Gemma laughed again, this time more heartfelt. She drew her head back so that she was looking at me, "I did not, I removed them to expose your leg, and it was not easy because you are very heavy…if it had not been for the adrenalin pumping through me I doubt I would have been able to do it,"

I could not stop my face from reddening and Gemma smiled wickedly at my discomfort. I was not _naked_ under my pants, but it was still more exposure than I was comfortable with.

Gemma leaned forward then and whispered in my ear, "You need not be embarrassed,"

My face burned as I stared at her devilish grin. I was suddenly very aware of the fact that I was still holding her in my arms; of the fact that her hands were on my back. Also, of that face that Nadir was still there.

If he had not been, I think I would have kissed her. My God I wanted to. She was so close, I could smell the scent of her hair…her lips were already so close to mine.

It was impossible to deny my physical attraction to her. Since the moment I had met her I had never lied to myself. I had felt rather like a dog; still heartbroken from Giselle but at the same time lusting after her sister.

However up until that moment I had considered my desire for her hopeless; like wanting a woman that only existed in dreams. Gemma Chevalier could have any man in the world and nothing made me believe she would ever want me.

But with her actions now I was confused. I needed to step away from her before I lost control of myself.

"I think I have to…" I heard Nadir mutter and he hurried out of the room. He had left me at her mercy.

I had no idea what to do. I knew what I wanted, but how could Gemma want the same? She had seen me, more of me than I would have wanted, how could she feel any attraction to me?

Unable to control myself, I cupped her beautiful face with one of my hands. She closed her eyes and made a sound that resembled a purr.

With that I lost all remaining control over myself. I moved my hand to the back of her head, burying it in her smooth blond hair. I tilted her head and brought my lips down upon hers.

I heard her moan softly, encouraging me. My arm around her waist tightened and I crushed her against me. She wrapped her arms around my neck. The sensation of her hands running though the hair on the back of my head sent my mind spinning.

My tongue broke the seal of her lips and she moaned a bit louder. After that it proved imposable to hide my desire for her. She had to have felt me; I was pressing her so hard against me.

I felt her tongue pass my lips and I could not stop myself. My hand slid lower to her backside. In response to my actions she kissed me harder, moaning into my mouth. She moved her legs apart a bit…

"Gemma," I murmured, and my lips left hers for her neck. She threw her head back as I greedily tasted her soft flesh.

And then in one awful moment she went from pressing me against her to pushing me away. My heart sank…as did my libido.

"I-I have to go," She stuttered, hurrying toward the front door, "I am glad to see you are feeling better…I will see you tomorrow," Her voice did not sound angry, she sounded upset.

"Wait, Gemma," I rushed after her, "I did not mean to…I mean I am sorry if I…please I did not even _thank_ you…" But she had left. She had run off into her carriage. I could see her wiping her eyes and trying to control herself.

I knew it was my fault. I had gone too far. Gemma might have let me kiss her, but I had been going in for the kill. I felt awful; she had come to my home concerned for my well being. She had deserved my undying gratitude, not my foolish desire. What had I been thinking? That she would let me take her right there in my kitchen?

"Did Gemma leave?" Nadir asked me as I turned from the door Gemma had just run through.

I nodded, "It is all my fault…why do I do these things Nadir? Why am I such a fool?"

Nadir stared at me, "What happened?"

"I," I bit my lip, "I kissed her,"

"Erik," Nadir looked shocked, "I thought you would…hold her, kiss her forehead…but you…?"

"Yes," I spat, "I kissed her lips, and I thought she…that she was enjoying herself, but then she pushed me away and left," I scowled, "What was I thinking?"

"What did she say when she left?" Nadir asked me.

"She said she had to go, she was happy I was felling better and she would see me tomorrow," I said coldly, "What happened? I swear she was kissing me back and then…then she was gone,"

Nadir shook his head, "Perhaps you were too forward? Gemma Chevalier is the daughter of a count…she is not supposed to have relationships with men she is not married to,"

"Yes," I nodded, "Yes I know, but I really thought that she…" I shook my head, "I should stop thinking should I not? No matter how hard I try I cannot come up with the right answer,"

"Women are quite a puzzle," Nadir sighed, "I would be lying to you if I told you I understood them any better than you,"

"Excellent," I said bitterly, "So between the two of us; two well educated grown men, we know nothing,"

The next day brought no answers to my questions. At first I thought that Gemma would not come to the site, that she would just disappear as Giselle had.

But she did not, she came.

"Good afternoon," She said, a bit awkwardly.

"Gemma," I said, "I am glad you came,"

"Why wouldn't I?" She asked me innocently.

It became clear to me at that moment that she intended to pretend our kiss had never taken place.

I supposed it was just as well. It had just been a moment of overly heightened passions; I had been so thankful and she had been so relieved…it was not love between us.

It was for the best I decided. Gemma was still young, at the height of her beauty and popularity, she would not settle down, least of all with an unknown architect with an ugly face and an even uglier past.

If anything did happen between the two of us it would have ruined the friendship I was growing to like very much. It was better this way, a possibly long friendship over a short, passionate affair. Of course, I had to tell myself this ten times a day to convince myself.

The progress of the construction site had suffered under the sink hole. However, I saw a certain chance in the situation. I redesigned the ruined part. This second plan was much more to my liking. I added things that were more…clever. The structure from the outside would appear different from various angles. Inside hidden doors and secret passages made the house more…interesting.

Of course, I had to clear this new plan with Jacque Chevalier.

"Erik this…this is phenomenal," I had thought he would like it.

The Count Chevalier had returned from Paris and I had immediately set up a meeting with him. He was quite pleased.


	19. Confusion

The next day brought no answers to my questions. At first I thought that Gemma would not come to the site, that she would just disappear as Giselle had.

But she did not, she came.

"Good afternoon," She said, a bit awkwardly.

"Gemma," I said, "I am glad you came,"

"Why wouldn't I?" She asked me innocently.

It became clear to me at that moment that she intended to pretend our kiss had never taken place.

I supposed it was just as well. It had just been a moment of overly heightened passions; I had been so thankful and she had been so relieved…it was not love between us.

It was for the best I decided. Gemma was still young, at the height of her beauty and popularity. She would not settle down, least of all with an unknown architect with an ugly face and an even uglier past.

If anything did happen between the two of us it would have ruined the friendship I was growing to like very much. It was better this way, a possibly long friendship over a short, passionate affair. Of course, I had to tell myself this ten times a day to convince myself.

The progress of the construction site had suffered under the sink hole. However, I saw a certain chance in the situation. I redesigned the ruined part. This second plan was much more to my liking. I added things that were more…clever. The structure from the outside would appear different from various angles. Inside hidden doors and secret passages made the house more…interesting.

Of course, I had to clear this new plan with Jacque Chevalier.

"Erik this…this is phenomenal," I had thought he would like it.

The Count Chevalier had returned from Paris and I had immediately set up a meeting with him. He was quite pleased.

"This will make the papers! Every architect in France will be jealous of your skill!" He said as he examined the blue prints I had given him, "Why did you decided to re design?"

The truth was, when I had done the Chevalier home the first time I had had Giselle Chevalier as my creative muse. Sweet, kind, lovely Giselle had brought out a side of me that was exemplary yes, but not quite amazing.

Gemma was who I thought of now as I worked. I could not help it, I was around her all the time and I had that one tantalizing memory of her kiss playing in my mind.

"I knew I could do better," I lied. Telling the count that I was inspired by his daughter would most likely lead to unwanted questions.

Chevalier nodded, "I cannot think of the talent it must require to invent such things as this," He pointed to the design of his future home, "It is quite fascinating…my daughters seem to think so as well,"

I shifted. I was not sure how much Chevalier knew about what had passed between myself and his two oldest daughters.

"Yes, Giselle and Gemma have both been very interested," I said guardedly.

"Well Giselle has always been one for things like this, that was why I had asked her to keep an eye on the site for me…make no mistake I trust you," Chevalier assured me, "But I knew Giselle would enjoy it…of course now with her wedding so close she has other things to attend to,"

I swallowed. Giselle's wedding…the idea of it had killed me once. I had not seen her since that fateful day when she had brought Gemma down to the site with her. It occurred to me that if she had not brought Gemma then, I might still be yearning for her.

"Gemma however," The count continued in a heavy voice, "She has never shown any desire to learn more about architecture…Erik, please know that I ask this in the best interest of my daughter…is there a man at the site she is coming to see?"

"No," I said quickly, and then I wondered…I had a lot of men working for me on that site. Many of which were young, good looking boys who could lift very heavy things. Perhaps Gemma did come to the site to see them.

If that was the truth, than as her friend I felt obliged to lie for her.

"Well, she does come to see me," I told the Count, "We have become friends,"

"Really?" the Count seemed relieved. I was not a threat, his daughter would not have any romantic attraction to _me_, "I am happy to hear that, Gemma could use some acquaintances not involved in this modeling world of hers," The count paused and looked at me, "Keep an eye on her Erik, she has been known to be…indiscrete,"

I left the meeting with Count Chevalier shocked…had he been telling me that his daughter was something of a harlot?

"Gemma I had an interesting meeting with your father earlier today," When she came to the site I decided to confront her.

"Really?" She said in a tone of mild interest.

"He asked me why you were coming down to the site everyday," I said, "He seemed to think it was to stare at all the working men,"

Gemma laughed, "He would think that…you spend one night during Carnival with a muscled Italian man and suddenly you are a Madame,"

I smiled, "I told him you were coming down here to see me; he seemed relieved because…how could you be _interested_ in me?"

Despite Gemma's threat, the doctor had told someone what was behind the mask. And from there, the rumor of my face had spread like wildfire.

At first I had been scared out of my mind. I had been prepared to run at the first sign of the torch wielding villagers. However, none had ever come. In fact, nothing happened.

Whenever those at my former residences had become frightened, I had received threatening notes, smashed windows…and then the proprietor telling me to leave.

Not so this time, and I knew why. This time I had Gemma. She had the people of Deauville wrapped around her little finger, and anyone who she liked everyone accepted.

She had convinced her father to fire their family doctor as well. When the rest of Deauville found out that Gemma Chevalier hated the man, they all fired him to. In the end, _he_ had been the one who was forced to move.

So, I owed Gemma my life twice over.

Now, as I talked to her about her father's opinion of her, and his assumption that her and I would never go farther than friendship, she turned to stare at me.

I looked over at her in surprise. She looked sad…I rarely saw Gemma looking sad.

"Erik…when you kissed me…" I stopped walked and faced her. She had never spoken of our kiss before, "I wasn't that I did not want you to," She said, her large blue and green eyes were round, "I was just afraid of ruining our friendship…you are the only person I can really talk to out here and if I couldn't talk to you I don't know what I would do,"

"I know," To my surprise, I had come to the right conclusion about why she had run out of my home, "There is no need to feel badly Gemma,"

"I am sorry Erik," She said.

"Please don't apologize," I said, "I would be dead without you,"

Gemma smiled wanly and nodded. We started to walk again.

"What did you think?" I asked her, "When you saw my face, what did you think?" I had to know.

Once again we stopped walking. Gemma took my hands in hers, "I thought it was tragic…gruesome yes, but Erik you should have seen the rest of you! Your whole face was swollen, and you had bumps all over you…you were making this sound, like you could not breathe…I was so scared you were going to die right in front of me,"

I saw that her eyes had become over bright, "It didn't matter what your face looked like," Gemma shook her had, "You are my…friend…and you were dying, that was all I was thinking about,"

A tear slipped from her green eye. The liquid ran down her perfect cheek and I could not resist whipping it away with my forefinger.

This sudden gesture changed the dynamic between us. Gemma leaned in against my body, her lips parted and her eyes fluttered.

What was she thinking? One moment I was her friend and she refused to compromise that relationship, the next she was leaning against me in a most…romantic way.

"Monsieur Bonheur!"

Raoul Simon stopped us before we got any father.

"Monsieur! Could you come take a look at this!"

"That's me," I said softly, pulling away from Gemma, "Let's go see what he wants,"

She nodded and stepped back.

When I went home I asked Nadir what he thought. He was just as bewildered as I.

"She told you that she values your friendship?" He asked me.

I nodded. Though the sun had set the air was still humid so we sat outside on the porch. I had had no idea I even had a porch until I had come home one day to find Nadir sitting on it. It had been buried under shrubs and weeds; apparently he had gotten board and took up the project of clearing it.

My eyes swept over to the stable which was being repaired. Though walking into town was now fine exercise, once fall and winter came it would not be feasible. I would need horses and maybe a carriage.

I paid a few men who were working on the Chevalier home, including Raoul Simon, to work overtime a few days a week and help me with it. It was not a difficult task and it was coming along nicely.

"And she said she did not care what your face looked like?" Nadir continued.

"That is what she said," I murmured, "But she was thinking more about keeping me alive at the time, if she saw it again, under normal circumstances, she might change her mind," I finished grimly.

Everything had been so much better before I had known she thought of me as more than a summer time amusement. It had been so simple; I could lust after her like a woman in a dream, knowing I could never have her.

But when I had kissed her she had almost become attainable. I had had her in my arms, and now I could not shake the memory of how she had felt. And after all she had done for me…it was impossible…I loved her.


	20. The Piano

As hard as it was already for me to keep my growing feelings for Gemma at bay, she was about to make it even harder.

"Erik," She came running up to me one day, "Tell me that you can play the piano and that the one in your living room is not just for show," She looked worried.

"Of course I can play," I said indignantly. Whenever I saw her I almost forgot how badly I loved her in our banter and light insults, "Why on earth does that matter?"

"Because you have to teach me," She said, sounded border line hysterical.

"And why do I have to do that?" I asked her, crossing my arms and cocking my head at her.

"Because I have to be better at in than Bella Sigmund,"

"Who the hell is Bella Sigmund?" I said blankly.

"The sister of Marie Sigmund!"

"I do not know her either," I said exasperatedly.

"Marie Sigmund is now engaged to _Claude Bonnay_!" Gemma cried.

This name I did know, "You mean the fellow who took Georgette to that garden party?"

"Yes!" Gemma cried, hitting my shoulders for extra punctuation.

I shook my head, "I still don't—"

"Oh that's right," Gemma's voice finally came down out of heavens, "I keep forgetting you have never been here for the summer…every year toward the end of the summer there is a grand ball for everyone…well everyone who is filthy rich or noteworthy in Deauville,"

"So…?" I motioned for her to keep explaining.

"So all of the young women always show of their 'talents,' you know how important it is for a young woman to be accomplished," Gemma continued.

"Of course," I said dryly, even thought I knew of no such thing.

Gemma shook her head, "Make fun if you want, usually I do to, but Bella always plays a piece and everyone always thinks she is _so_ stunning and _wonderful_—"

"And you want to make her look like an ass because her sister is marrying the man your sister loved?" I wanted to know if I understood correctly.

"Yes," Gemma said firmly.

"Why doesn't Georgette play the piano?" I asked, beginning to pace. It was an old habit of mine to pace while scheming.

"Because Georgette is going to play the harp because Marie plays the harp," Gemma said as though it were quite obvious, "I have to beat Bella and she has to beat Marie…we have to show Claude Bonnay he made a mistake when he chose not to marry into this family,"

"I thought you did not even like your family," I said to her frankly.

"Yes but they are _my_ family, I am allowed to dislike them,"

I stared at her in amazement for a moment. I had never met a girl quite like Gemma Chevalier.

"If this is all about winning," I said at last, beginning to pace again, "Why not just slip something in their drinks and watch them flail about like idiots?"

Gemma raised her eyebrows, "I like the way you think Erik; if I have no musical talent I will use that…so will you teach me?"

Inwardly I shuttered. I had not played music since Christine. And now another unattainable love of my life wanted me to teach them. Music was that part of me that I held most sacred. It was the thing that allowed me to express what I felt in my soul as nothing else could.

I had made the mistake of sharing my music, my very soul with Christine and it had nearly killed me. I knew that if I did this for Gemma, if I helped her there would be no letting go of her. She would become a part of me and I would not be able to give that up.

Gemma did not know what kind of danger she was walking into when I accepted her innocent request.

The construction of Chevalier's home was my main priority and now taking up a lot of my time after the set back. Therefore the only time I had to teach Gemma was at night after the work day was done.

I told Nadir about the situation, "So if I understand correctly," He said after I had explained what was to happen, "Gemma is going to be coming over here at night and it will be…you, her, a piano, and a dark room lit by candles?"

I nodded, "It should prove interesting,"

"God help both of you," Nadir whispered.

With no knowledge of the fact that she was running the risk of becoming another one of my maddening obsessions, Gemma came to my house her first lesson.

"The stable is starting to look really nice," Gemma said; she could just barely see it in the dying light.

"Thank you," I said, "It should be done soon,"

We entered the house. Nadir was gone. He liked to walk on the beach at night. The house was very quite.

"Shall we begin?" I asked her, leading her toward the living room.

"Erik it's so dark in here…your house is creepy in the dark," Gemma took my hand and kept close to my back.

I sighed, the similarities were overwhelming already.

We reached the living room and I began to light some of the candles. There was already a bit light in the room from the moon's reflection off of the ocean.

"Ready?" I asked Gemma once there was enough light in the room for her to see. I could have done without any added illumination. My eyes have always been suited for seeing in the dark.

Gemma nodded and sat down on the piano bench and put her hands on the keys.

I smiled, "Just wait a minute," I said, motioning for her to get up, "I have not played this much and I am sure it is out of tune,"

"Are you sure you know how to play this?" Gemma asked me a few minutes later. The piano was proving hard to tune and I was playing a series of very off key, grating notes.

"Yes I am sure," I said gruffly.

"Are you certain? Because everyone says Bella is like a prodigy and I really need someone who is talented so if you can't do it I could hire someone—"

I stood and placed a finger on her lips, silencing her, "I assure you mademoiselle I am qualified," I took my hand away from her mouth and she remained still, "Now just listen," I instructed her.

She sat down on the bench beside me and I placed my fingers on the keys.

"You have very long fingers," Gemma said, clearly still trying to be difficult.

"Hush," I snapped. I relaxed and closed my eyes. I had not played since Christine had left me and my few tries had ended in disgust…my muse had left me.

I hoped I would be able to recall my old talent. I played the first line of music and relief swept through me.

My hands seemed to play without my mind telling them what to play. When it came to music, my hands responded to my heart alone.

And at the moment, my heart was being torn every way possible. I wanted Gemma to love me. I wished that she would take me in her arms; kiss my misshapen face and make me feel whole again…or for the first time.

Foolish thoughts yes, but they were the desires in my head. I played something I had written for Christine once…something I had played for her when my need to be with her had been at its height. It was a rich, haunting, dark melody…it was designed to get into the heart of the listener and take hold.

My gaze fell on Gemma as I played. She was in quite a state. Her eyes were closed and I could see that her hands gripped the piano bench so tightly her knuckles were white. Her head was tilted back slightly, her lips parted a bit.

Her breath was coming quickly and I knew her heart was racing. I watched her chest rise and fall in the candlelight. I knew I should stop before this got completely out of hand, but I could not bring myself to. Let her feel for once what it was to have great desire and no out let for it.

I was hypnotized by her face; the look of pleasure was unmistakable. A tiny gasp escaped her lips as the piece came to a deafening crescendo. She squirmed a little and then she was falling backwards off the bench. I caught her limp body by wrapping one arm around her shoulders.

Her head fell back against my arm. Her eyes were shut…she had fainted in the intensity of the moment. Gemma looked so beautiful in that dim room…in my arms.

No. I would not lose control over myself. I needed to wake her up and teach her how to play like the seraph whose likeness she bore.

"Gemma," I shook her slightly and snapped my fingers in front of her face, "Gemma wake up,"

Slowly she came around. Her eyes fluttered open and she took a moment to orient herself. Then her eyes opened wide.

She sat up and stared at me, "Oh my God Erik! _Where_ did you learn how to do that? _How_ did you do that?"

"Do what?" I laughed. I tried to make light of the fact that I had just made her lose consciousness.

"Erik, I will not lie to you I have done some things which have given me _a lot_ of pleasure, but just _listening_ to that was the most amazing experience I had ever had," Gemma said, clearly still a bit rattled.

"I am happy to hear that Gemma," I took her hand and kissed it, "Your pleasure is my pleasure," I smiled playfully. I felt like I finally had a bit of control over our relationship. Gemma always brought me to my knees, now it was her turn.

Gemma shook her head and smiled, "You are _bad_ monsieur," She fanned herself, "Could you get me a glass of water?"

I nodded. Walking away I felt I had finally turned the tables…I had control over her now.

And at that moment I realized I did not want it. I did not want another Christine…I wanted Gemma. Never, I vowed as I poured her the glass of water she had requested, would I manipulate her by any means. I would teach her, I would give her every part of me I could. If that did not result in love, I would not try to force it.

I returned and handed Gemma her water, "I owe you an apology Erik," She said, "You are _more_ than qualified to teach,"

"Thank you for that assessment," I said mockingly.

She smiled, "Have you done this before? Teach I mean,"

I paused…actually I froze.

"Once," I said softly, "Just once before,"

Gemma saw the clouded look come into my eyes and she decided not to press the subject.

Our lesson went along rather enjoyable after its intense beginning. Gemma knew nothing at all about music, not even how to read it. I spent two hours alone trying to explain a beginner's scale to her.

Of course we both ended up very frustrated…

"No! That is not a D! It is an E!" I shouted at her. How many times did I have to explain?

"Well they look EXACTLY the SAME!" She yelled back.

"They most certainly do not!" I cried, "_Anyone_ with eyes should be able to see that!"

"Well I don't have eyes anymore! I got so mad at you I scratched them out!"

I stared at her and she glared back at me. For a few moments we just sat there without talking. Then Gemma began to laugh. I smiled at her as she let her head fall against my shoulder, still laughing.

"Erik," She said apologetically to me, "I am sorry I am so musically challenged…I have a feeling this is hopeless,"

"Be that as it may I refuse to give up on you," I told her, I took her chin and tilted it upward with my forefinger, "You will learn, it just may be hard at first…now tell me," I pointed to the music, "What is this?"

"E?" She guessed.

"Correct," Finally. But it did not matter; the worse she was the more lessons she would need.

"Now you take this home and study it all day tomorrow," I handed Gemma a sheet of music I had marked up with the proper notes. Our time was up and it was getting very late.

Gemma and I moved toward the door, "You know I will probably take this and lose it without ever studying it," She said to me.

"I know, but at least lie to me and say you did as I asked," I said.

She smiled, "Thank you Erik," She turned and kissed my cheek, "Good night,"

"Good night,"

I watched her walk to her carriage. Her driver had waited in my kitchen while the lesson had been taking place.

"Well you let her leave," Nadir said to me as I entered the living room again, "That is a good sign,"

"She is not going to become another Christine Nadir, I promise you that," I told him, sitting down heavily. It had been a long day.

"How can you be so sure Erik?" he asked me worriedly.

"Well for one," I said, leaning forward, "When I yell at her, she yells back,"

Nadir laughed, "Yes I heard the two of you in there…it sounded like you were going to kill each other,"

"I want to make it clear that I would never hurt her," I said seriously.

"It is possible to hurt someone without meaning to," Nadir said.

"I know that, Christine was a horrible mistake! I know I went too far! But this time," I sighed, "This time I think I can get it right,"

"For all our sakes I hope so," Nadir muttered, "But I am not only talking about you Erik; you are in love with Gemma Chevalier, a woman who has broken the heart of every man she has courted,"

I dismissed Nadir's warning.


	21. Lessons

Lessons

Gemma proved very hard to teach indeed. She had no musical experience whatsoever, plus she was stubborn and easily irritable.

Actually, she was rather like myself.

"Gemma, did you practice this at all?" I asked her two week in to our lessons.

"No," She said unapologetically, "I was going to, but then I had to go to a dress fitting,"

"_A dress fitting_?" I said angrily, "Gemma do you think that I have nothing better to do with my time than teach you how to play the piano?"

"Now that you mention it, what else do you have to do other than this?" Gemma shot back, "Do you have a lot of friends I do not know about that you are neglecting?"

I glared at her, "I have had enough of you Gemma," I stood from the piano, "You want results but you do not want to work for it…I am leaving you in this room and you are not coming out until you can play this scale backward and forewords with your eyes closed!"

I stalked from the room and shut the large double doors. I braced them so that she was stuck in there.

"Erik!" She banged on the doors, "Erik you let me out of here this minute! Erik!"

Nadir approached me, "What do you think you are doing?" He asked.

"Teaching," I said simply.

Eventually Gemma stopped banging on the door. It took awhile, but I heard music coming from the room. The notes were off at first, but slowly she improved. It was around one in the morning by this time.

I listened to her play for another hour or so. However, all of a sudden I noticed that the music had stopped. I decided she had been punished long enough.

Opening the doors I entered the room. I expected to see Gemma sitting at the bench, but she was not there.

Instead she was lying on my sofa. A pillow rested under her head and her perfect blond hair fanned out across it. She lay on her back, one arm above her head and the other flat on her stomach.

God she looked beautiful.

I suddenly felt like quite the jerk for locking her in that room. I had only wanted her to be better; I wanted her to be as good as I knew she could be. Why did that wish for her make me do such crazy things?

Gently I shook her awake. To my surprise she was not angry.

"I think I did better!" She said excitedly, sitting up after I woke her, "I even tried it once with my eyes closed!"

I smiled at her and nodded, "It sounded perfect,"

She yawned, "What time is it?"

"Nearly two in the morning," I said, "I will take you home,"

Gemma had stopped bringing her carriage here. Instead she road a horse, something I did not like because it meant that she road in and out of town alone at night.

I planned on us both riding her horse in to her house and then I would walk the three miles back. However, Gemma had a different idea.

"I know it is not proper, but it is so late Erik and my father trusts you, would you mind if I just slept here?" Gemma asked.

"O-of course," I stuttered, the idea of her spending the night was very exciting, "I am afraid that I do not have a guest room for you to use," I did have another room but it was covered in dust, "But you are welcome to mine,"

"Oh no that is alright," Gemma shook her head, "I am so tired, I can just sleep here," she motioned to the sofa.

I laughed, "The famous Gemma Chevalier sleeping on a sofa? I think not…we both know you would prefer a bed so just take mine,"

Gemma smiled, "If you insist…but where will you sleep?"

"Don't worry about me," I said, taking her hands and pulling her up from the sofa.

Gemma followed me up to my room. I could not help but realize that I was taking her to my bed.

"Here," I opened the door, "Sleep well,"

"Thank you," She said, stopping in the doorway and turning toward me.

"Well I was not about to allow a guest to sleep on the sofa," I said.

"No," Gemma smiled at me and took a step closer, "I mean thank you for everything, for teaching me and being so patient, I know I am not a good student," She leaned forward and kissed my cheek.

My heart stopped and my legs weakened. I knew it was foolish to let she have such an effect on me but I could not help it. And now, now that we stood in the dark doorway to my bed room…

As though she understood what might happen if she did not act quickly, Gemma stepped back and shut the door.

I retired to the living room, sprawling out on the sofa were Gemma had lain moments before. I was tired, but thoughts of Gemma kept me awake. She was in my bed. Her perfect body was now resting between the sheets where I usually slept. It was maddening.

It was a rough night on the sofa. The piece of furniture was not big enough for my body and I could not find a comfortable position. However, waking up the next morning was completely worth it.

I opened my eyes to see a bright blue eye and a bright green eye staring at me.

"Oh! I didn't mean to wake you," Gemma said, she was standing in the living room, the morning light hitting her perfectly and her hair a bit tasseled from sleep. I had not even known a woman could look so stunning.

Then it occurred to me that I was not wearing my mask. Of course I had taken it off to sleep and I had not had the chance to put it back on.

My hand shot to my face but Gemma caught it, "Erik,"

We stared at each other for a few minutes without speaking. How could she do it? How could she stand to look at me? I noticed she did not look directly at me, but she let her gaze flick across my face from moment to moment. It looked as though she were trying to get used to my appearance.

I did not want her to have to do that. I did not want her to look at me with sadness or pity and have to try hard not to look away.

Again I reached for the mask and this time Gemma did not stop me.

"How did you sleep?" I asked her, trying to pretend as if the last moment between us had not happened.

"Fine," Gemma smiled, "Your bed is very comfortable,"

I tried to hide the fact that her words made me blush.

"Did you sleep in the sofa all night?" Gemma asked me.

"Yes," I nodded.

"You are too big for it," Gemma said, looking me up and down and then looking to the sofa, "You could not have been comfortable,"

"I was fine," I said lightly.

Nadir was surprised to see Gemma enter the kitchen that morning.

"I—oh," He said, starting to talk to me and then seeing Gemma behind me.

"Late lesson," Gemma offered an explanation.

"But…won't people think…" Nadir stuttered.

"Let them have their thoughts," Gemma said carelessly, sitting on a stool in the kitchen, "It does not matter to me,"

I laughed. Clearly Nadir did not understand Gemma's position in society as well as Gemma did. No one would scoff at what she did because everyone wanted to be just like her.

However as I reached for a cupboard door, I stopped laughing as a pain shot through my shoulder.

"Erik? Are you alright?" Gemma asked.

"My shoulders are a bit tight," I admitted, "The sofa does not seem to agree with me,"

"Come," Gemma got off her stool and motioned for me to sit down, "I can help,"

I sat down on the stool and she stood behind me. I had no idea what she would do until I felt her hands on my shoulders, massaging the knots out of my stiff upper back.

My eyes widened in surprise and then slid closed as I focused on how good this felt.

"If anyone was nervous before a show there was this girl from Sweden who would give massages," Gemma explained, "She taught me how to do it,"

"You were nervous once?" I teased her. My reward was a hard pinch, "Ah!"

Gemma stopped and drew her hands away, "Does that feel better?"

"No," I lied, "You had better keep going,"

"You are a terrible liar Erik,"

Gemma stayed for breakfast and then left, promising to see me later at the site and then after for another lesson.

When she was gone Nadir let his feelings on the subject of Gemma become known.

"Erik…what are you doing with this girl?" He asked me, "She comes over late at night…she sleeps here…this is not proper,"

"I know it isn't," I said, "But I am not doing anything to her…she chooses to come and go as she pleases,"

"And you do not…you never want to…" Nadir remembered how I had been with Christine, how badly I had wanted her.

"Of course I want to," I said bitterly, "Every time I see her I just…" I sighed. I wanted to make love to her, but more importantly I wanted to keep her with me, forever. I wanted her to belong to me.


	22. Pinot Noir

_A/N: I left off the last chapter in a weird place so just to re cap, Gemma had spent the night at Erik's house. After she left Erik and Nadir were talking about Erik's relationship with her. Alright, on with the story! I hope you all like it, please don't be shy! Tell me what you think! _

Pinot Noir

The more I was with her the more I thought of her as my own. I was the first person she said hello to at the site, she stayed by my side during the day and then at night she was in my home.

She was not just a beauty, she was a glowing spirit…everything about being around her made me feel more alive than I ever had before.

A lifetime of feeling like a ghost and finally I felt alive.

"This is dangerous Erik," Nadir said, "It is becoming ever more clear that you love her…what will you do when she leaves? Will you be able to let her go?"

"Yes," I said firmly, "When she leaves, I will let her go,"

Over the next week Gemma improved at an amazing rate. She had taken this seriously at last and started practicing. The difference was astounding.

It seemed at last she really cared about this. There was a certain passion when she played that even I could not teach.

After that one night she regularly slept at my home. It did not cause a scandal; in fact the only people who knew she stayed there sometimes were her family. It did not even occur to them that something could happen between Gemma and I so the count and countess did not object. Besides, they knew she was doing it for family honor.

One particularly warm evening I listened as Gemma played a song I had written for her perfectly.

I had begun to write again. One night after Gemma had gone to sleep in my room I had sat at the piano and composed until dawn. It had been a long time since I had done that and it had felt wonderful. After that night the music had poured out of me once more.

"That was perfect Gemma," I told her when she finished.

"Really? Because I thought that I could have—"

"No," I shook my head, "You were perfect, I am very proud of you,"

She grinned widely at me. Though her eyes were bright, I could not help but notice how tired Gemma looked. I suspected that she was practicing far too much. I knew how dangerous that could be.

"We should take tonight off I think," I told her, and I could not resist tucking a lock of blond hair behind her ear.

"No! The party is coming up and I still do not think I am good enough!" Gemma protested, placing her hands back on the keys.

"Gemma," I put my hands over hers, "You have an amazing talent and I believe you will show Deauville that this Bella person is nothing compared to you,"

"I am tired," Gemma admitted.

"Then you shall have a drink with me and then go home," I insisted. It would not be a crime to give her a glass of wine and take her out on the porch.

Gemma agreed. I led her out to my porch.

"I didn't know this was out here," Gemma said, sitting down and relaxing on one of the chairs.

"Funny neither did I when I first moved in," I admitted, "I will be out in a moment,"

I returned with two glasses of wine a few moments later, trying not to think about that fact that I was going to be watching the sun set over the ocean with Gemma. Nothing was at all romantic about the situation and I was not in love with her.

"Thank you," Gemma took a glass from my hand.

I sat down beside her, "Here is to you," I said, raising my glass.

"No," She shook her head, "Here is to teacher and student,"

Our glasses clinked together briefly before we sipped the wine.

"Mm this is good," Gemma commented, "What is it?"

"Pinot noir," I told her.

We drank in silence for a few minutes. She was gazing out at the waves of the Atlantic, watching as the very last rays of sun sparkled on the sea.

I was thinking about her and watching as the last rays of the sun sparkled on her blond hair.

"This place is nice Erik…quite, not like it is in town," Gemma said, drinking more of her wine and turning toward me.

"I like the quite," I admitted.

"I usually hate it," Gemma laughed softly, "With the wrong person it is maddening,"

"Well I shall do my best not to drive you mad," I said sarcastically.

"Too late," Gemma never missed a beat.

"Clever aren't you?" I laughed.

"Yes, I am rather clever," Gemma smiled, "And I think you enjoy it,"

"I do," I admitted without shame. There was nothing wrong with saying I enjoyed her wit, just so long as I did not tell her how much I enjoyed it, that I loved her for it.

"I think you are very entertaining," I told her.

"Well at least I have that…it is all I have, beauty and wit, nothing else," Gemma said, and her voice sounded almost bitter. I wondered what she was talking about.

"They are two very fine attributes," I said, trying to coax more out of her, "What is wrong with beauty and wit?"

"Nothing," Gemma laughed suddenly, "And if I did not have Giselle as my sister I would probably be completely happy with them,"

To my surprise I found that the mention of Giselle did not sting my heart as it used to. Instead my interest rose, what did Gemma mean?

"I don't understand," I said blankly.

"Never mind," Gemma shook her head, "It is silly,"

"Gemma you tell me about so many things I hardly find interesting, what is one more?" I was trying to be amusing, but the truth was I cared about everything she said.

"Alright," Gemma turned in her chair and faced me, "Giselle is beautiful, so am I, but she is also kind, thoughtful…she is not as clever as I or even Georgette, but she is so much more…so sincere, so honestly caring,"

"Gemma," I shook my head, "You could not possibly believe that you are not in any way kind…you reached out to me, and I know you do not think much of it because you have so many friends, but I do not," Suddenly I felt as though I had said too much, "So…it means a great deal to me,"

I looked away, not wanted to see how she looked at me after this asinine admission.

However, all of a sudden I felt Gemma's arms around me. She had moved from her chair and now was more or less on my lap. She had thrown her arms around my neck and her head was on my shoulder.

I closed my eyes and wrapped her in my embrace. Her head was turned so that her lips were next to my neck. I could feel her breath against my skin and an involuntary shiver ran through me.

After a few minutes I expected her to pull away, but she did not. Instead she stayed in my arms. She eased herself farther into my chair until she was nestled in next to me. I was glad she was wearing such a simple dress, no bustle, or else she never would have fit.

"Gemma…?" I was confused but she made no response nor any sign of wanting to move.

This was dangerous. There would be a time when she would get up and leave and if I let this happen now I was not sure I could let her.

However I could not push her off of me, and I did not want to ask her to stop.

I loved how she felt against me. At first I sat stiffly, but as I relaxed I found the fingers on my hand were acting of their own will. They stroked Gamma's shoulder and played with her long hair.

"Can I have some of your wine Erik?" Gemma asked me. She had left hers by her chair and apparently did not want to get up and retrieve it.

"Of course," When she made no move to take the glass in her own hands, I raised it to her lips. She tilted her head back and closed her eyes. A small drop of the wine was left on her lips as I pulled the glass away.

"Wait," I said, putting the glass on the arm of the chair. I touched my thumb to her mouth. I had every intention of whipping the drop away, however instead I smeared the small drop over her bottom lip.

She sighed. I had her chin cupped in my hand and I tilted her face upward. I stared at her. The look in her eyes…approval. She was going to let me do as I pleased.

Slowly, savoring every moment, I lowered my lips to hers. I was so afraid, the last time I had kissed her she had run away.

Uncertainly I hardly touched her lips before I pulled away.

To my surprise Gemma's eyes flicked up to mine, "Kiss me again Erik,"

How could I refuse? One arm around her back, the other cupping her face, I pressed my lips tenderly to hers. I felt her hands on my shoulders, clinging to me.

Gemma pulled her lips away and I thought she would run again…but she did not. She pressed light kisses along my jaw, on the good side of my face of course. And then she reached my ear. I would never have guessed that the feel of her lips against my ear lobe could be so arousing.

"Gemma," I growled her name, my arms around her tightening as her tongue touched the shell of my ear.

I heard her chuckle with pleasure, evidently pleased with herself for making me want her so badly.

As wonderful as all this was I still had the fear she would pull away suddenly and leave as she had the last time. However, she never got the chance.

"Erik—oh,"

I hadn't even heard Nadir coming until it was too late. He had come out on the porch, seen Gemma and I, and quickly retreated back into the house.


	23. New Romance

New Romance

Gemma pulled away, covering her mouth in embarrassment. I scrambled out from under her, fully intent on killing my former friend.

"Don't you knock!" I shouted at him, grabbing him by the collar and turning him around to face me.

"Erik calm down,"

"You can't just walk around without letting people know you are coming!" I said furiously. I was so mad I shoved him backwards. Gemma and I had been having the intimate moment I had dreamed of and he had ruined it.

"There is no need for that _friend_," Nadir said, clearly angry I had pushed him. He pushed me back.

Like two fools we were in a shoving match. It was getting rather brutal, both of us falling to the floor more than once.

"Stop it," Gemma had come inside as well and was trying to relax the situation, "Stop it!"

We did not hear her. Frustrated, Gemma left and returned with a vengeance. She dumped an entire pitcher of water on the both of us.

That got our attention.

"Honestly," She shook her head at both of us, "You two are like children! And I hate children!" She was smiling ear to ear, hardly able to contain her laughter.

"You could have just asked us to stop," I said irritably. I did not enjoy being called a child. Nor did I appreciate having water thrown on me.

"I did!" Gemma laughed, "You two were so _involved_ you did not even hear me!"

"You find this _entertaining_?" I asked her coldly, "You ruined my shirt,"

"Oh listen to you!" Gemma said delightedly, "_You ruined my shirt_! You sound like an old woman Erik!"

"An old woman? That is what you think?" I said menacingly, stepping toward her, "Come here and say that,"

"No…Erik you stay where you are," Gemma backed away, her smile gone, "Do not come any closer…"

But it was too late for her, Gemma was doomed. I wrapped my arms around her and brought her to my wet, ruined shirt.

"Oh Erik don't!" She cried, starting to laugh a bit again and struggling to get away, "Stop!"

It was my turn to laugh now. And after a moment, I realized that she was not fighting back anymore.

"I should go…change you know," Nadir made an excuse for himself and left us alone.

When he was gone I spoke to her again, "I am sorry that happened, that he embarrassed you like that,"

"I was not embarrassed Erik," Gemma said simply, smiling up at me, "I thought it was fairly amusing,"

I realized that earlier she had been hiding a smile with her hand, not embarrassment

. "Amusing?" I stared at her, "How could that have been amusing?"

Gemma laughed, "You did not see the look on your poor friend's face when he came around the corner!"

"You weren't…embarrassed to be seen…?" I could not bring myself to finish. I wanted to know if she wasn't ashamed to be seen with me.

"Erik, we are just two people who are attracted to each other having a little fun together," Gemma put her hands on my shoulders, "There is nothing wrong with that,"

"If…if you are sure," I did not quite know what to say. Mostly, though my presence was tolerated, it was never encouraged. Not many wanted to be around me, or wanted others to know that they were around me.

Gemma wrapped her arms around my neck and stood on her tip toes, her lips pressing against mine. She broke away sooner than I would have wanted, "I should get home Erik," She said softly, kissing my good cheek once again, "I will see you tomorrow,"

I walked her to the door and bid her goodnight.

When I turned around Nadir was standing there, "Well, lessons seem to be going _very_ well,"

"You are quite meddling, did you know that?" I walked past him, headed for the piano in the living room.

"I did not mean to interrupt," He had a grim smirk on his face.

"You had to return at that moment?"

"I was not aware that it would cause a problem, I thought there was nothing between the two of you…if these are the kind of lessons you are giving her I must say that I do not approve,"

I rounded on him, "_She_ kissed _me_! I did nothing wrong,"

"So the most beautiful woman in France is just falling into your arms?"

I stared at him, "What exactly are you implying?"

"What are you doing to her Erik?" He asked plainly, "What are you doing?"

I shook me head. For so long I had counted Nadir as my only friend. Even though I would never have admitted it to him, but I was glad I could give that title to Nadir.

It now became clear to me that, friend or not, he would never trust me again.

I was not sure if I should be angry with him, or if it was my fault.

I turned my back on him and headed for my piano. When emotions conflicted there would always be only one place I could turn to. I did not know if Nadir followed me or not. As quickly as I could I lost myself in my composition.

Without even realizing it, I had the beginnings of an opera on my hands.

Some time later I finished. It was only then that I realized Nadir had followed me.

"That sounded promising," He said as I finally acknowledged his presence.

"Gemma is a very good muse,"

"She seems to be more than a muse to you,"

I sighed, "Yes, once again I have proved to myself that I have no control over my feelings and I have no sense left in my head,"

"You should stop this now Erik," Nadir looked seriously at me, "Gemma has broken more men than the guillotine; I would hate to see you become the next victim,"

"How do you know I will be a victim?" I asked angrily, "I think you are just jealous that your deformed, freakish friend has a woman interested in him and you do not,"

"That is absurd Erik!" He bristled.

"Really? So you have a secret love life I do not know about?"

Nadir turned red. For the moment my anger was forgotten.

"So you _have_ been keeping secrets from me! Well…who is she?" I smiled at him.

He looked away and shifted uncomfortably, "She lives a few miles south of here…her father was an officer in the British Army, he met her mother while he was stationed in India,"

The location put her farther out of Deauville, the exact direction Nadir walked in every day.

"So that is where you have been going every day!" I cried, "What is her name?"

"Victoria Winter…her father named her,"

"I see…and how are things with Mademoiselle Winter?"

Nadir's face reddened. I was happy to have him be the one embarrassed for once.

"She is a very sweet woman," He sighed at last, "Young, kind, beautiful…not beautiful like Gemma or Giselle but beautiful all the same," Nadir laughed almost sadly, "She believes I am a nomad though because I keep refusing to let her come to the house for dinner,"

"Nadir, you can bring her over here, I do not mind," I was glad to see he had an interest in this girl. I knew his wife had died years ago and since then he had never loved another.

"I couldn't," He shook his head, "This is your house, it would not be right,"

I laughed at him, "Nadir! For God's sake I would not even have this house if you had not found it! You let me stay with you when I was a mad man addicted to morphine! Bring her back here! I will stay out of the way!"

"Are you sure Erik? It wouldn't be an imposition?"

"Anything for a friend,"

Of course promising Nadir he could have a night in the house with this woman meant that Gemma would not be having her lesson.

She came down to the site a bit later than usual that day. I had begun to wonder if she was coming at all, or if our kiss the night before would keep her away. Maybe she was more embarrassed about our relationship than she would admit.

I was relived when she showed up.

"Where were you?"

"Sleeping," The added rest had been kind to her. If it was possible Gemma looked more radiant than ever. Her blond hair was shining in the bright sun, making it look like a platinum gold river was flowing from her head.

Her beautiful hair was half pulled back and the wind was blowing whips of it into her blue and her green eyes. Stunning, she looked absolutely stunning.

"I have some bad news," I spoke once I had recovered from the dumb state this woman had a way of putting me in, "No lesson tonight,"

She looked genuinely disappointed, "Why not? Erik the party is coming up—"

"You have no need to worry, you have made excellent progress," I assured her, "One night will not hurt you,"

Gemma shrugged. Of course, she had so much natural poise even a gesture as ungraceful as shrugging looked like a dance move when Gemma did it.

"Why aren't we practicing tonight? Do you have plans with another woman?" She teased me.

"Not me, Nadir,"

"Oh?" She sounded only mildly interested and she was staring out at the sea instead of looking at me.

"He met someone, Victoria Winter, and I told him I would stay out of their way and he could bring her back to the house,"

"Victoria Winter…" Gemma considered for a moment, "Never heard of her,"

"What a shame for her," I said sarcastically, a comment for which I got hit on the shoulder.

"So if he has the house what are you doing?"

"Sleeping early I suppose,"

"Oh Erik that is too dull for you, come with me into Deauville!" Gemma looked excitedly at me.

"No," I said simply.

"Come Erik _please_,"

"No,"

"It will be better than sleeping in a room all alone,"

"No,"

"Say 'no' all you want Erik you are coming," Gemma said flatly. She was a diva no doubt, "Be ready at eight,"

There was no arguing with Gemma Chevalier.


	24. Dinner in Deauville

By eight I was ready. It did not take a lot for me to _get_ ready; all I did was change out of the clothes I had been wearing all day and into some clean ones.

I heard the carriage pull up outside and I went out to greet it. Nadir was already gone to retrieve his Indian English Princess.

When I saw Gemma it was clear that her preparation process for a night in Deauville was much more complex than mine.

Her hair was swept up off her long neck in an elegant bun. It was not a tight chignon however; several blond curls had sprung free and touched her skin.

Gemma's dress was even more low cut and even more tight fitting than the ones she usually wore.

"You look…" I tried to search for the right word to describe her as I got into her carriage.

"I know," She laughed. Lacking confidence was certainly not a problem of hers.

Taking a moment to recover from the stunning beauty of Gemma all done up, I managed to ask her, "What do you have planned?"

"Dinner, dancing…I promise it will not be too painful," She laughed at me.

"I will be the judge of that,"

"Why are you so irritable all of the time!" Gemma cried, "Why do I have to twist your arm to get you to go out?"

I snorted. Was it possible that she really did not know? Was she so unthinking that she did not comprehend the situation? Gemma knew what I looked like; she knew why I wore the mask. When word had gotten out about what my face had looked like she knew what the reaction had been. If not for her telling everyone she was a friend of mine I would have been asked to leave Deauville immediately.

All this considered how could Gemma not realize why I would be so uncomfortable?

"Do you only think of yourself Gemma?" I sighed, "Do you understand nothing about others?"

Her unique eyes narrowed, "Of course I think about _you_! I understand everything! You are the one who does not understand,"

"What!" I cried, "Tell me; what don't _I_ understand?"

"Erik, you are worried about people being…unkind to you…because of the way you look, correct?"

My eyes widened. So she did know how I was feeling. I was so surprised I didn't say a word.

"I thought so," Gemma sighed, "Erik, you are with _me_! And I am not trying to sound arrogant but trust me; no one will say anything against you! They will love you because—,"

"Because?" I was suddenly rapt by Gemma's words.

She paused, and it seemed that the clam, confident, composed air that was always surrounding Gemma Chevalier slipped for a moment. I saw almost panic…confusion in her eyes.

And then, just as quickly as it had gone Gemma's cool persona came back.

"They will love you because I tell them to,"

She was silent then as the carriage took us into Deauville. I got the feeling, for the first time since I had known her, Gemma was almost uncomfortable.

The heart of Deauville was a busy, noisy place at night. The air had been cooled by a salty breeze coming in off the Atlantic but it was not cold by any means.

The moment we stepped out of the carriage I could feel a certain energy in the air. It was the kind of electricity that came from being around rich, elegant socialites and aristocrats on vacation; their main purpose in life being to enjoy themselves.

It was off putting. Never had I been in this kind of situation before.

Gemma led me into a crowded, loud restaurant that had a live band playing on a raised stage in the back of the place. She did not even say a word to the maitre d' before he took us to a table.

The moment we sat down I saw at least five people leave their seats and head toward our table.

"God," Gemma muttered to me, "I hate these people!"

And then they were in front of us. The first two to make it over were a young couple; both looking very rich and very chic.

"Gemma! So good to see you again!" The woman said. She could not have been more than two years older than Gemma. Her had dark brown hair which was in a tight bun. Unlike Gemma's hair no strands had been pulled out.

"You to! Oh you look fantastic!" I stared at her. She sounded so sincere it was incredible.

"Thank you!" The woman seemed delighted to receive a complement from Gemma.

"So good to see you again Gemma," The man spoke to her now.

Gemma smiled widely, "Good to see you to Michel," Now she pointed at me, "Erik this is Michel and Donatella Posen, Michel Donatella this is Erik Bonheur,"

"Of course," Michel Posen shook my hand, "We have heard of you,"

I was greeted kindly, happily, openly by every person who came to our table. Soon we had a pack of young, rich aristocrats and upper middle class surrounding us. I felt completely uncomfortable, but Gemma…

The discomfort she had felt earlier in the carriage had vanished. She was in her element, the queen of all that was admired by French society.

Gemma had the unique talent of being able to include everyone in the conversation, even me, and at the same time be quick, witty, and poised. It was impossible to take your eyes off of her.

As the crowd around our table finally dispersed I watched Donatella Posen walk back to her table. As she did, I saw her pull a few strands of hair out of her bun.

My eyes landed on Gemma who was watching Madame Posen as well. Her smiled, which had been so bright and innocent moments before, turned sly and almost wicked.

Gemma's blue eye and green eye flicked to mine and she laughed, "You see the people I have to deal with?"

"They seem to adore you,"

"Oh they do," Gemma said, the sly smile still playing on her lips, "They absolutely love me no matter what I do, and I can't stand them!" She laughed, "Ironic isn't it?"

I did not know how to feel. Gemma Chevalier had all of France wrapped around her little finger…and she hated them. I did like being in on her joke. She hated the very society which had shunned me and rejected me.

On the other hand, what kind of person enjoyed making people they hate love and adore them? Gemma was a supreme liar and actress. I suddenly wondered if every word she had ever spoken to _me_ had been a lie.

"What are you thinking Erik?" Gemma asked me.

I shook my head. If every idea I had formed about this girl was a lie, I did not want to find out in that restaurant.

"Nothing…have you been here before?"

"Yes, quite a few times," Gemma looked suspiciously at me. She did not know what it was, but she did know there was something I wasn't saying.

"What do you recommend?"

"What do you like?"

I realized we could be caught in a double entendre here. A chance at making an indelicate joke seemed better to me than the awkwardness between us.

"I like anything hot and steamy,"

Gemma burst into a fit of laughter. It sounded so genuine, and also so musical, I found it hard to believe she was fooling me just like she was fooling that rest of France.

"You do know how to make me laugh Erik,"

"Well that is my main purpose in life,"

She laughed again, "Good, I have been waiting to meet the man whose sole purpose was my amusement for awhile; what took you so long?"

"I was just waiting for you to come along,"

"How long were you waiting? I suppose it had to be at least ten years before I was even borne," She smiled.

"I am not old, you are just young," I said quickly.

"I'm not that young," She seemed a bit offended.

"Well you are a kid compared to me,"

That was the first time I called her 'kid.' She hated it; she hated anything that made her seem less than mature, intelligent, and refined. Of course that meant I would address her, from time to time, as 'kid' for the rest of her life.

Through the rest of dinner people kept coming up to the table to say hello to Gemma and to be introduced to me.

It was amazing how many knew who I was already. Chevalier's house was a much more significant event than I had guessed.

Gemma was perfect with every one of them. She knew every name and a little bit about everyone's lives, just enough to make them feel special and important.

The longer I sat there the longer I realized that everyone in the place was trying to steal glances at Gemma. They wanted to see what she was doing; what she had ordered, what she was drinking, how she was talking, what she was wearing…they all wanted to be her.

But Gemma ignored all this completely. She gave her full attention to our conversation.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" She asked me midway through the meal, "Has this meal hurt you in any way?"

"No," I admitted, "But there is still a chance I will succumb to food poisoning later,"

Gemma only half smiled, "Erik, don't joke about that," She laid her hand on mine on the table.

I assumed she was referring to the unfortunate Plantain incident. It was shocking to me that she could care so much about me. So I wondered if she really did care or if she was fooling me just as she was fooling the rest of the people around us.

Not knowing how to respond I looked away from her for a second. Just then I caught the eyes of several people as they quickly looked away. I glanced back at Gemma's hand over mine.

With this one minute gesture she had sent everyone talking about her…and about me. Speculation was already spreading through the restaurant as to our relationship. Gemma would be the center of all gossip for weeks now.

I pulled my hand away and she stared at me in shock. I had been supremely confused in my relationship with Christine and she had been an innocent child. Gemma was a professional at ripping apart a man's heart…not to mention at lies and deceptions.

How was I supposed to handle her?

Besides that, the idea of being the center of all the attention Gemma's men received was frightening. How long would it be before I was asked questions I could not answer? How long would it be before they would demand to know about the mask? The past?

"What are you doing Gemma?" I asked her, softly because I knew everyone was listening, "What do you want from me?"

"What do _you_ want from _me_?" She turned my question on me.

I was a self proclaimed bad conversationalist sitting across from the master of dialogue. How was I to come out of this alive? All I could think to do was to be honest.

"I want to know how you _really_ feel about me; I want you to assure me that you do not secretly hate me as you do the rest of these people,"

She looked stunned. Her mesmerizing eyes locked on mine and held me. I looked from her green eye to her blue one trying to read her thoughts but it was impossible. All staring at her did was remind me of how breathtaking she looked.

"What I say to you is real," She whispered back at last, proving that even if she pretended not to notice she knew everyone was listening and watching her.

I nodded and I let my hand fall back to hers on the table. I saw her smile and I still was not sure if I could believe her.


	25. Un Ladylike Behavior

Un Ladylike Behavior

We finally left that place, Gemma saying goodbye to a select few before she left.

"They will all be asking themselves why I said goodbye to who I said goodbye to for days," She laughed.

"You think it is funny to toy with people's emotions?" I asked.

"Not everyone's," She said pointedly.

The next place Gemma took me to was where the dancing part of the evening would take place. It was not what I would have expected. It was a small, dimly lit hall with an energetic band composed of saxophone, trumpet, violin, and piano.

There were more people there than had been at the restaurant and many of them greeted Gemma enthusiastically. She seemed more relaxed around these people. She laughed easier and smiled wider.

Two glasses of champagne materialized out of no where and Gemma handed me one, "They know what I like here,"

"You come here often too?"

She laughed, "I made this place,"

Two hours later we left the dance hall. For someone so thin she was able to handle the glasses and glasses of champagne and wine she had. Even so, I felt like I had to get out of there.

Even with Gemma at my side assuring me everything was fine I did not feel comfortable. When I could not stand it any longer I told her I was leaving. She nodded and took my hand, allowing me to lead her out onto the street.

"What did you think?" She asked.

"It was different," I told her. What I did not tell her was that the entire time I had been waiting to see a cruel look from a stranger or hear someone whisper about the freak with Gemma Chevalier.

The streets of Deauville were now quiet. The night air was still warm and the sky was clear.

"Our driver will have gone home by now but I know where we can get a cab," Gemma told me.

"Why not walk?" I suggested. It was a beautiful night. This was what I loved; peaceful, dark night. Under the cloak of the star dotted navy sky I felt safe and comfortable.

"All the way back to the house?" Gemma did not seem too enthusiastic about the idea.

"It is a beautiful night," I urged, "Come, we can walk back on the beach," I took her hand, leading her down the path by the wharf that would take us to the beach.

Gemma made no further protest. She walked along silently next to me, staring around at the empty beach and the deserted wharf.

"Wait," As we stepped onto the beach Gemma stopped and removed her shoes.

We began walking again and she took my hand. The beach was softly lit by the glow from the waxing moon. The gentle lull of the ocean waves breaking against the white sand was the only sound out there.

This was my idea of a good night; alone in the darkness.

But not completely alone, a small voice reminded me.

"It is beautiful out here," Gemma said at last.

"It is,"

"Funny, I come here every summer but I rarely go out onto the beach anymore,"

"Really?" I turned to her, "What a waste,"

Gemma laughed, "We all waste our time don't we?"

I looked sidelong at her. For a woman whose life centered on fashion, parties, and many many suitors she was insightful.

"We do indeed," I muttered, "How long have you been coming here for the summer?" I asked her. I had spent a long time rehashing the past, dwelling on the pain. I would not waste any more time on that.

"For as long as I can remember," Gemma considered, "We used have so much fun out here on this beach! There were a lot of us children then; everything was so amusing to us! We would spend hours out in the water playing,"

"It sounds like a wonderful childhood,"

"It was,"

I was afraid she would ask me what my younger years had been like. But true to her pattern of never asking me about myself, she did not.

In no time we were in front of the Chevalier home. We stopped walking and Gemma turned to me.

"I'm not really tired," She said, even though I had heard her yawning several times, "Why not sit out here for awhile?"

I agreed and we sat down on the beach. Gemma did not seem to care that her dress was getting sand all over it.

She sat down right next to me, resting her head on my shoulder. My arm wrapped around her. I felt her lips touched my neck.

"I am glad we went out tonight," Gemma said to me as she nestled a little closer, "I do hope you had a little bit of fun,"

Cupping the back of her head I guided her lips to mine.

She tasted like heaven, even though I knew she was no angel. But the fact that she could be lying to me, that she was never genuine, was easy to forget when her soft lips were pressed against mine.

We sat there for some time, just kissing each other. Gemma broke away for a moment, resting her head on my chest.

"That was worth a night in Deauville," I told her.

Feeling a little tired, I lay down on the beach, Gemma resting half on top of me. We lay there for a few minutes.

When she said nothing I sat up a bit to look at her; both of her lovely eyes were shut. I smiled and settled back down, my head on the sand. My arms were still wrapped around her.

It was so peaceful out there. I only meant to rest for a moment before I woke her up and walked her the rest of the way home. I never meant to fall asleep.

I was freezing when I woke up. It took me a moment to realize we were still on the beach. The wind had picked up and the stars in the sky were blacked out by clouds. In the distance I could hear the ominous low rumble of thunder. A storm was rolling in from the sea.

"Gemma," I shook her awake.

"What?" She looked around confused, "Erik what happened?"

"We fell asleep,"

She was shivering, "It got so cold out,"

"Yes," I nodded. It took a lot of effort to pull myself off the sand. It was cold and I was so tired, my joints ached and all I wanted to do was fall into bed.

But I managed to stand and help Gemma up as well. I felt her cold hands and face and I became worried; she needed to get inside.

I half carried her up to the Chevalier home, "Will you be alright?" I asked as she opened the door, "Can you get yourself into bed? You need to hurry you are freezing,"

Gemma nodded, "Erik you must stay here tonight; there is going to be a storm soon and you are so cold!"

I shook my head, "It would not be proper,"

"Oh Erik!" She glared at me, tugging on my arm and pulling me inside, "Our relationship is not exactly innocent, don't fight me now! I am too tired!"

So was I. It was three miles from the Chevalier home to mine and as the sound of thunder was growing louder and louder I knew I would be caught in it even if I took one of the Chevalier's carriages home.

As quietly as possible we stole across the rooms. Gemma led the way; she seemed to know every step of her house by heart. I assumed she had snuck back home in the dead of night before.

We went up a grand staircase and down a pitch black hall. She opened the door to one of the rooms at the very end of this long hall and pulled me into the room.

It was still dimly lit by the last rays of moonlight to escape the approaching clouds.

"Is this a bedroom?" I asked her, staring at the bed that was in it I knew it was a foolish question.

"Of course, this is my bedroom," She said in a hushed voice, locking the door behind us.

"Gemma!" I hissed, "I cannot sleep in your _bedroom_!"

I saw her roll her beautiful eyes, "Oh stop it Erik! We just were sleeping together out on the beach! What is the difference?"

"The difference is…it is different!" I cried, "And your father would have me head!"

Gemma sighed, "He is asleep on the other end of the house Erik! I will get you out of here tomorrow morning and he will never know,"

"Gemma," I shook my head, "I can not sleep in here! It is completely improper!"

"You did not seem to care about improper on the beach," She said frustrated, "Now get in bed! We are both freezing and tried, we will argue later,"

"I am covered in sand," I made one last protest.

"Then take off your clothes," She said slyly. She must have see the color drain from my face because she laughed softly, "Listen Erik, I promise I am not leading you to your death," She paused as she removed the dress she had been wearing, revealing only a corset, a flimsy slip, and stockings.

I was not so sure about that; she could very well be leading me to my death here, but what a way to go. Gemma may well have been lying to me; her apparent affections for me nothing more than a façade. Whatever she had in store for me, I doubted it would end in my happiness.

Unfortunately for me and for my heart, watching that cunning, sly Gemma Chevalier slip into her nightdress made me forget all of that reasoning.

I knew that women acted a little less proper when they traveled to the coast but this seemed a bit much. However, after tonight I understood. Gemma liked to test the boundaries, see what she could make people do. She would never follow the rules of society, not when she believed she alone made these rules.

Her bed was soft, much more comfortable than the beach but that was hardly surprising.

I did not realize just how tired I was until I lay down. It had been a long day; work at the site then out with Gemma all night. I was almost asleep before Gemma joined me.

Her presence in the bed made it impossible to relax and sleep. I was so aware of her body, a body I had thought about more than once, right next to mine.

"I'm so cold," She murmured, draping one of her arms gracefully across my chest.

She was freezing. Her body was so thin I imagined it was easy for her to become so. I had seen her in the sparse moonlight which was now gone completely and her lips had been blue. As she lay next to me now I could feel her shaking.

Maybe it was a good thing that I was here. I held her to me, trying to warm her.

"Erik, should you take that off?"

"My God Gemma!" I had removed my pants and my jacket, "What more do you want from me?"

"I mean the mask Erik,"

Suddenly I was the one who felt cold and shaky all over.

"I think it is better this way,"

"Erik," She raised herself up on her elbow, "I really do not mind…it is really alright…would it not make you more comfortable?"

"No," I said gruffly.

She stared at me. Outside the threatening storm burst. A huge clap of thunder shook the whole mansion and a streak of lightning briefly illuminating the room.

"Erik, I cannot imagine that that thing is comfortable," Her hand fell on the side of my mask and I felt my heart rate rise.

"Please don't," I took her hand away. I hated how pathetic and pleading I sounded. I knew Gemma lived off of other people's foolish weaknesses; Donetella Posen and all the others who worshiped her, and I hated to show her that I was anything but strong.

If she saw my weakness I knew she would exploit it and that frightened me.

Another bolt of lightning flashed outside. I saw her face in the brief light; the expression in her eyes was unreadable.

I heard her sigh, "If you are sure Erik, but I want you to know…" She stopped mid sentence.

For the first time that night Gemma had run out of words.

She shook her head, kissing me once before settling down next to me, trying to warm herself. Before long she was fast asleep.

As she slept I finally began to relax a bit. She could not do anything too diabolical while she was sleeping could she?

This day was the strangest I had ever had. Never would I have thought I could end up in Gemma's bed, warming her thin body.

I ran my fingers up and down her back, drawing a pleased sigh from her lips as she slept. Outside I could hear rain crashing down upon the roof top and the wind blew loudly. I had never been happier to be sung in a bed.

Sung in a bed with Gemma, I reminded myself.

She was a mystery to me. The most beautiful, captivating woman in France; what on earth did she want with me?

I had not really realized just how prominent Gemma was until this night. Everyone everywhere watched her with bated breath. All the while she was playing them for fools; they did not know that behind her beautiful green and blue eyes she was hiding contempt.

Gemma Chevalier was playing a game with all of them. I wondered if it was possible she was opening up to me because I was so far out of the realm of people who mattered, or if she was playing another game with me.

Was a person who put on such a front to the world ever really able to be sincere?

I stared at her in the dark. Lying there, practically on top of me, she did not seem so dangerous. She looked remarkably small and young. I remembered she was hardly twenty years old.

Perhaps I was overreacting. I was in the bed of the woman most desired by the entire country and beyond. I told myself I should just be grateful she had brought me here.


	26. Morning Light

Morning Light

"Erik,"

I was pulled out of a deep sleep by someone shaking me.

"Erik!"

Gemma was hissing my name. My eyes shot open. Sun was pouring through the large window in her room.

"Damn!" I muttered, quickly throwing off the comfortable sheets and re dressing. I had to get out of there; I was probably late already.

"Clam down Erik," Gemma laughed, "You are not in any _danger_," She got out of bed as well and pulled a flimsy silk robe over her shoulders.

"How am I to get out of her?" I asked her frantically. My worst fear was to try to sneak out of the house and come face to face with Count Chevalier.

"It is simple," Gemma smiled, "Do you know when this house was built?"

"Gemma! Now is not the time for a history lesson!"

"My my! I thought you, an architectural genius, would be interested in this," She smiled that wicked smile I was beginning to know better and better.

"Gemma," I said sternly, grabbing her by the shoulders, "I have to leave! You promised!"

I was suddenly reminded of an awful night years ago I had thought I had forgotten.

It happened on what would become the night I left the gypsy camp. One of the young girls had been seeing some Spanish farm hand who had promised to marry her. Instead he had left her in a field with a twisted ankle.

I had found her and tried to help her. She had decided that instead of admitting she had been tricked by this man, she would tell everyone _I_ had raped her.

This memory whirled through my mind. Gemma could trap me here, claming the same thing and I would have no where to run. It would be the scandal of the season and Gemma would be at the center of it.

She seemed to sense my fear.

"Erik, there is no need to get so worried," She eyed me, wondering what had spooked me, "As I was saying, this house was built around 1790…and modifications were made on it for the rest of the century,"

Gemma walked over to the large mirror in her room.

"Of course, you know what was happening around 1789?"

"Gemma _now is not the time_!"

"That pesky peasant uprising and that messy guillotine! Of course, this house belonged to an earlier Count Chevalier, and he was worried about being hunted down and killed by these uncouth peasants who had already done as much to other members of the aristocracy,"

It was clear to me that Gemma was going to tell me this inane story whither I wanted her to or not. I wanted as she ran a hand along the side of her mirror.

"So he built this house, removed from Paris and close to a port, where he could escape if the need should arise. He equipped all the main rooms with hidden exits,"

To my amazement she touched the mirror and the whole damn thing sprang forward, opening like a door.

The irony was not lost on me.

"He had this, and several other passages installed in case he had to make a hasty escape; this one leads right to the stables,"

"This is unbelievable," I whispered. It was, but not for reasons Gemma would know about. Of course it made perfect sense for an aristocrat to want an escape rout during the days of the guillotine. I had just never thought I would be using another tunnel behind a mirror.

"Just take the passage to the end and wait, I will go around the other way and get a horse for you to use,"

"That is not necessary," I said immediately. I was so used to refusing her help for transportation it was I said it without thinking.

"You are taking the damn horse and that is final," Gemma laughed, "And if anyone asks I will tell them that we walked home and it was so late I lent you the horse to get you home faster,"

I decided not to fight her. This hidden tunnel had put me in considerably good spirits and I was in the mood to be agreeable. I regretted my fear earlier of Gemma accusing me of something like rape. She had never done anything against me and I guess I owed her a bit of trust.

"Alright," I said, still eyeing the tunnel in disbelief.

"They say it is haunted," She told me smiling.

"Really?" I was not sure if I could move or if I was being rooted to the spot by crushing irony.

"Well…not really, I used to tell Giselle and Georgette that it was haunted and at night I could hear someone in there," She laughed, "The tunnel goes past their rooms as well and I used to go down it and scare the wits out of them!"

"You were never afraid that it might really be haunted?" I asked her smiling. Well, at least Gemma and I had one thing in common; we had both played ghost.

"No, I do not believe in them,"

I started to enter the tunnel but Gemma pulled me back, "No goodbye kiss?" She asked.

Without hesitation I took her into my arms. I brought my lips down on hers in the most passionate kiss I had ever been a part of. She held on to me tightly, bringing her arms around my neck. My hands slid up and down her silk robe, caressing her body.

By the time it was over I was ready to forget all the danger I could be in for just another hour or so in bed with Gemma.

She smiled at me, "I am glad you stayed here Erik,"

It seemed honest to me.

But now it was over and I had to go. I went down the dark tunnel, which was really a flight of stone steps leading downward. Here and there I saw passages shooting off from the stair case. I assumed they led to Giselle's and Georgette's rooms.

I heard the mirror click shut behind me. I kept going down for a few flights and then there was a sharp right turn. About ten paces after the sharp turn the tunnel stopped and I waited.

It was not long before I heard Gemma.

"Erik?" She whispered.

"I am here!" I could see how the tunnel door opened and I had my hand on the knob.

"Wait a moment," She stopped me mid motion, "I have to get your horse ready,"

Another few moments I waited there before I heard her again, "Alright, come out,"

She had a black mare waiting for me. It was a beautiful animal with white socks and a white blaze.

Gemma held her bridle while I mounted her.

"Lucky horse," She murmured seductively. I stared at her and she laughed, "I will see you later Erik; I expect my lesson today,"

I nodded, "Of course," With one last look at her I dug my heels into the horse and it galloped out of the stable.

The air was crisp and cool from the storm the night before. The sand on the beach was dotted from the rain. Although the sun had been out before the sky was now clouding over again.

It had been some time since I had ridden a horse. I thought I remembered how to do it but it was difficult. The beast Gemma had given me to ride was a strong willed thoroughbred who was proving hard to control.

I was trying to talk it into going the right way but it kept stopping and trying to turn back to the Chevalier's mansion.

As the mare, who's name I realized I did not know, turned around, I saw something that stopped me dead.

Even from far away I could tell. Giselle had come out for a morning ride on her horse Venus.

For a moment all I could do was stare. I remembered the day I had first seen her and that horse. I could not help the sad feeling in my heart when I saw her.

How I wished she could have loved me. It was true that Gemma and I had a good time together and she certainly had the greater wit, but Giselle was honest. If she had loved me there would have been no questioning. Things would have been so much simpler!

Her horse was speeding toward me and I finally had the sense to force the mare on. If Giselle saw me now, with a horse from her stables, she would know something was off. I had the feeling Giselle was not one to keep things from her father.

My horse obeyed at last, sprinting faster than I could have imagined possible. I was relieved when my house was in sight and I steered the mare off the beach and up to the stable we had just recently finished.

I walked heavily to my home. I had not slept so well the night before as I had been so confused about Gemma, and so worried about being discovered.

"Erik! You are just getting in _now_?" Barely in the door and Nadir was giving me the third degree.

"You know that I am," I said in a weary voice, "How is Mademoiselle Winter?"

Nadir blushed and bristled at the same time, "She very much enjoyed her dinner here; but I had the decency to return her before dawn! What have you been doing Erik?"

"Nothing decent," I enjoyed the shocked look on his face as I passed him.

"Erik…"

"We fell asleep," I told him, grumpy from lack of sleep and confusion over my relationship with Gemma, "That was all…not that I think what I do with her is any of your business,"

Nadir sighed, "I worry for you my friend…she is…" But he just shook his head.

"I know, I think it is hard to describe her as well," I fell into a chair, "And let me tell you this; she is ridiculously adored by everyone, and she hates them all! She thinks it funny to get them to love her…she is playing with all of them,"

Nadir sat down across from me. He waited a moment before he asked me, "Erik, do you love her?"

"I cannot seem to help it," I admitted, "She is…well, when I am with her, just her, it feels right," It was hard to explain, as love tends to be.

So far in my life I had thought I was in love with three women; Christine, Giselle, and now Gemma.

Christine had been all wrong. Looking back on our relationship now I realized just how foolishly I had acted. She was a child, a young woman unsure of herself who needed protection. The problem was I was as unsure of myself as she was of herself.

I had given Christine all I had, but she needed something else. And from her I had needed more. I had needed her love, but also her strength and courage to bring me from darkness. Christine had not been able to give me these things.

Giselle had never loved me. I had imagined our relationship because I wanted it to be true so badly. It had hurt when I had learned the truth, but a part of me had always known we were not meant to be together.

And now there was Gemma. Vicious wit to match my own, confident, smart…a beautiful liar.

But with her, when I was alone with her giving a lesson or even on the site, it seemed to me we fit together. It was an unlikely pairing yes but I did believe in it. Gemma appeared to as well. She let me hold her, she let me sleep in her bed…she had to know we were in love.

Of course I worried she did not know how strongly I felt for her. I worried that she believed I was just like any other man, in love with her fame and her fortune.

If our relationship was allowed to grow stronger however, if she would spend more time with me and just me I thought I could show her that we were supposed to be together.


	27. Excited Emotions

Excited Emotions

I changed and in another hour was headed back to Deauville.

Work had barely begun for the day before the sky opened up and doused us with rain. The downpour showed no sign of stopping and it made any further construction impossible so I was forced to send everyone home for the day.

I was already soaking wet and covered in mud when I started out for my home again. I still had Gemma's horse so that was something, but it did not make the trip any more pleasant.

Half way home I heard a carriage behind me. The horse turned before I could stop it and I found myself staring at an amused Gemma Chevalier.

"You look like hell," She laughed.

"Thank you so much mademoiselle," I glared at her.

She laughed again and threw the door of her carriage open, "Get in…and don't touch me! I do not want to get wet,"

I obeyed her orders without protest. Going the rest of the way home in the pounding rain was not something I was interested in. Before I got in I tethered the mare to the back of the carriage so it would walk behind us.

"What is the mare's name anyway?" I asked her as I climbed in her carriage.

"Artemis, she was mine," She told me.

"Was?"

"I have a new horse, Nike,"

"What was wrong with this one? I thought black was always in style?" I teased her.

"No, Nike was a wild horse that was going to be destroyed but I saved her," Gemma explained this act of kindness with pride.

"So you do care about other creatures, how surprising," I laughed at her.

"Of course I do! How else do you explain me picking you up?"

I stared at her, "Do you care about me Gemma?" I asked slowly.

She turned bright red for a moment. It looked like she was struggling to keep quiet, to not say what she wanted to. Gemma bit down on her full bottom lip and her eyes flicked to the window in the door of the carriage.

There were two options. She was either trying not to say that she did care for me, or she was desperately trying to bring herself to say she cared for me.

I felt that she was in the edge and I wanted her to jump. Whatever she said it would make everything clear to me and that would allow my life to be so much better. I wanted to know her true feelings for me. Was it possible to coax them out of her?

I moved and sat beside her. I do not think either of us remembered that I was soaking wet.

She turned to face me. I saw a tear running down from her blue eye to her perfect cheek. Without thinking I raised my hand to her, whipping her tear away and cupping her beautiful face.

Gemma tried to smile but she really couldn't. Her eyes were watery and she looked to be on the verge of crying.

Suddenly Gemma fell into my chest and she draped her arms around my shoulders; even though I was all wet.

And then I heard her whisper; "I am sorry Erik, I'm so sorry,"

I hushed her, my arm circling her waist, "It's alright Gemma," I kissed the top of her head, "Just tell me the truth,"

I felt her stop shaking in my arms. She drew away from me, her eyes still filled with tears she refused to let drop.

"Yes Erik," She breathed, "Yes,"

I pressed my lips to her forehead. She was still pulled tightly against me, her dress becoming damper by the second.

By this time the carriage was at my home. I got out before her and held the door.

Gemma produced an umbrella that had been stored on the floor in front of her seat.

"You are coming in?" I asked her surprised. Once I said it I realized that had been her intent all along but until that moment I had thought she was simply giving me a ride.

"Of course," She did manage a smile this time, "I need my lesson,"

I nodded. The short walk into my home made me even more sopping wet while Gemma managed to remain reasonably dry under her umbrella. I heard her telling her driver to go back to the Chevalier mansion, meaning she meant to stay for some time.

"You may show yourself to the library," I told her, "I will be down in a moment,"

"Where are you going?" She asked me quickly.

I gestured to my clothes, "I'm a little damp,"

"Oh! Of course…go,"

On my way up to my room I passed Nadir.

"Erik," He hissed at me, on his way downstairs from his own room, "Did I hear Gemma?"

"Yes,"

"Why is she here?"

"She is here for a music lesson," I growled back, "And if you must talk to her I expect you to be nice, so far she has been nothing to kind to me,"

"So far," Nadir muttered, earning a glare from me. He was not very keen on my developing a relationship with the infamous Gemma Chevalier. 

In a few minutes I was downstairs again. Gemma was standing in front of the large window in the room. This has always been my favorite place in the house. Now it was my favorite place on earth.

This was where I got to be alone with Gemma.

She turned around to face me, "The sea looks fantastic during a storm doesn't it?"

I went and stood beside her, "It does," I wrapped an arm around her waist. I felt a new level of intimacy between us. I was allowed to hold her, touch her, kiss her…

My lips brushed her neck and she tilted her head to give me better access. She laughed and turned her head to me, pressing her lips to mine.

She pulled away, "Erik, I need to practice!" She smiled at me.

"Of course," I led her to the piano bench. I sat beside her, my hand pressed to the small of her back, "Play," I instructed her. Her fingers flew across the keys. Gemma really was very good. It seemed to me that she had had this musical talent inside of her, just waiting to be released. I had no doubt that she would play much better than anyone else possibly could.

For hours we sat there at the piano. Gemma played until her fingers hurt, improving with every note.

She stopped at last, balling her hands into fists and then relaxing them again.

"Very well done Gemma," I told her, "You really have a gift,"

Gemma gave me one of her sore hands to massage; no matter what she would always be a bit of a diva.

"I never thought I would be able to play like this," Gemma admitted, "I tried to play once before when I was young and I was a complete disaster," She gave me her other hand, "You are a marvelous teacher,"

I finished with her hand, raising it to my lips, "It has been a pleasure to teach you,"

"Will you play something for me Erik?" She asked, "I love to hear you play,"

"Of course,"

I played her something from the opera I had been writing. When I was through I turned to her to see what she thought. I had barely turned my head when Gemma's lips captured mine. She kissed me passionately for what felt like a glorious eternity.

When we broke apart I stared at her.

She blushed sweetly, "I cannot help it! You play so well! I just feel all these emotions…what was that you just played?"

"Just something I wrote," I said lightly, happy to see my music had such an affect on her.

"You wrote that?" Gemma looked impressed, "You should sell it to an orchestra or something…the world should hear what you can do,"

"Maybe, but right now I would rather just share this with you," I leaned in and touched my lips to hers. For as long as I live I do not think I could ever tire of kissing Gemma.

She always tasted so wonderful, her lips so soft; and I loved the little noises she made when I kissed her.

I pressed her closer to me and her arms fell gently around my neck. My lips fell to her neck and I heard her breath catch in her throat.

Yes, kissing Gemma was wonderful. But the more I kissed her, the more I held her, the more I wanted all of her. I did not believe this was a practical hope or even a moral thing to hope for. Gemma was a young woman still and a highly respected one as well. This further step in our relationship would not happen. And, on the rare chance that it did, it would not be here on this piano bench.

"No," Gemma's voice was hardly above a whisper, "I can stay,"

I had to pull away from her. If this carried on any longer things could get out of hand and I had the feeling that Nadir was listening in on all we were doing.

"Is something wrong?" Gemma asked me.

"No…no of course not," I was shocked at the look on her face. It seemed Gemma was confused; not everything was her own calculation. She looked rather young, rather innocent.

"Nothing is wrong Gemma; I just do not want to…get out of hand,"

Suddenly her old smile was back. She knew the affect she had on me. She knew I wanted her and that I could hardly control myself. Gemma took pleasure in knowing all of this.

She laughed, "Well, we wouldn't want that would we?"

"No, not at all,"

But I sensed sarcasm on both our parts. 


	28. A Challenge

A Challenge

Our music lesson was over but the storm outside was not. It still rained like mad and flashes of lightning broke the sky while thunder shook the house.

We relocated from the piano bench to the chair I had facing the large window. I had always liked that chair. It was large enough to fit Gemma and myself comfortably but not so large that there would be any space between us.

"I should be out somewhere," Gemma sighed, her head was on my shoulder and her hand splayed on my chest, "At a party or something,"

"Why aren't you?" I asked her, looking down on her beautiful face and her bright blond hair. Normally her hair was either perfectly straightened or perfectly curled but the rain had gotten to it. It was a bit wavy and messy; if at all possible it made her more stunning.

Gemma didn't say anything for a few minutes. Finally she responded, "I like your hand there,"

For a moment I was shocked, then I remembered that my hand was resting just above her hip, not on her hip, not on her waist, just in between the to.

"I remember the first time you put your hand there," She went on. I had had no idea I even put my hand there before but I listened to her intently. I was certain this was the real Gemma talking to me, telling me her true feelings.

"We were having a piano lesson and you put your hand on my back to keep it straight," Again I did not recall doing this, "And as I kept playing it slid over to this spot," She moved one of her delicate hands over mine. I made sure to memorize where I was touching her so I could do it again.

"So that is why you stay here? Music and hand placement?"

"You what to make me say it don't you?" Gemma sighed, moving so that she was looking into my eyes, "I enjoy your company more than anyone else in Deauville,"

"Only in Deauville?"

"Fine! In all of France, no, all the world!" She laughed, "Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"Well I was hoping you would include that you find me absolutely captivating and charming,"

"Not to mention devastatingly handsome,"

This made me flinch. We had been having such an amusing, normal conversation in which Gemma had admitted to enjoying me over all of her high class socialite friends. Why had she had to bring up looks? I felt like I could talk to her about anything else, tell her anything else, but not my face.

"Your face Erik—" Gemma began.

"Don't…please," I hated moments like this, where I felt so exposed. Gemma knew my weakness; my face. And a girl like her…I did not want her to know how she could hurt me most.

"I find you attractive Erik, no matter what anyone says," She continued, disregarding my request. I suppose I should have been happy to hear her say this, but I just couldn't believe her.

"How could you possibly?" I asked her. I wanted her to give me an honest answer more than I wanted my own life.

Gemma stared at me, sitting up straighter. She ran one finger down my cheek; I cursed myself silently for flinching as her hand came to my face.

"It is hard to say, I think it's in the eyes," Gemma said finally, smiling at me, "I like your eyes,"

It was not sure if it was true, but it did make me smile, "Sometimes I just do not believe the things you tell me,"

"Erik…I am here, sitting in your arms," She kissed me; even though she had done this before it still sent a jolt through my body, "How else can I prove I am attracted to you?"

How else indeed.

"I am sorry Gemma, if you say I have lovely eyes than I must,"

She laughed at me, "In the future it will be easier for you if you just agree with me immediately,"

"I shall remember that,"

"What about you Erik? What makes you attracted to me?"

"Are you serious Gemma?" I stared at her in shock, "You are the most beautiful woman in the world! It would be impossible not to be attracted to you!"

"I know," She said shamelessly, "But is that all? Is that the only reason you want me here? Because of the way I look?"

"No, not at all," I was surprised. I would have thought all Gemma cared about hearing was that I thought she was beautiful.

"I think you are smart," I told her, "I think your wit outshines even your beauty,"

Gemma smiled widely at me. I had never seen anyone with a more perfect smile than Gemma.

"I think you are very smooth Erik," She leaned in and touched her lips softly to mine. Her head settled back down on my shoulder and her hand ran lazily up and down my chest.

This was heavenly.

"Tell me a story Erik," Gemma demanded after a few minutes.

I laughed at her, "What am I? Your court jester?"

"Perhaps, but then I cannot really imagine you wearing one of those silly hats, and any court jester of mine absolutely must wear a hat,"

"Well then I guess that rules me out; what a shame,"

Gemma let out a short laugh, "You sound so upset! But do not worry, you can still tell me a story,"

"And what kind of story would you like to hear?" I was reminded of a time when I used to tell Christine stories. However I reasoned that Gemma would be interested in something a little different.

"Dark sky, thunderstorm, Erik there is only one kind of story for an afternoon like this! Tell me a ghost story," Gemma nestled deeper into the nook between my arm and chest.

"Why would you want me to do that?"

"Because I can be scared, then you can comfort me,"

Well, that was certainly enough of a reason for me.

I told her a story I had heard when I had lived with the gypsies about a spectral beast that chased young women at night.

I felt Gemma shiver, "Did you make that up Erik?"

"No, I heard it years ago and believe me, it was much more frightening when I was younger and outside sitting by a camp fire,"

Gemma laughed, "We used to build camp fires on the beach when we were young, sit around it and tell stories,"

It was amazing to think that what the children of rich aristocrats did for amusement was the same as what gypsies did.

"Well the camp fires weren't my idea, the gypsies built them,"

Gemma sat up a bit straighter and looked at me, "Gypsies?"

I had no idea why I was volunteering this personal information, "Yes, I used to travel with gypsies,"

"What!" Gemma stared at me in shock, "That is incredible! All the people I have met that is defiantly the most interesting background I have ever heard,"

"There was nothing interesting about it," I was in love with Gemma, and I wanted her to know about my life and accept me despite it…or maybe because of it.

She said nothing so I went on, "They were not exactly kind to me," I was struck by the sudden memory of standing in the graveyard with the angel, "But I did learn a lot there I suppose,"

Gemma's eyes dropped down to my chest. Her blond hair fell over half of her face and it was hard to see her expression but I could tell she was upset.

"It is alright now Gemma," I said gently, "All of that happened a very long time ago,"

She nodded and looked up at me, her blue eye and green eye bright, "Do you need to talk about it?"

"No," I told her quickly, pushing some stray strands of her long blond hair away from her face.

Gemma shook her head, "I look at you Erik and you seem so sad most of the time! What can I do to put a smile on your face?"

Immediately my mind filled with indecent ideas. It must have put a small smile on my face.

"That is better!" Gemma put her hands on my shoulders, "Now if I do this…" She leaned in and brushed her lips against mine. My hand cupped the back of her head, my fingers buried in her thick blond locks.

Gemma drew away and looked at me, "Ah! There is a smile! Was that so hard?"

I decided to let the moment to make an off color comment about the word 'hard' in this situation go.

She brought her lips to mine again. Gemma really knew how to kiss a man. She moved her lips slowly, gently…I felt like I was drinking all of her in.

When she drew away she nuzzled her nose against mine before her head fell back to my shoulder.

"I have really enjoyed this afternoon Erik," She sighed.

"As have I," I had noticed her use of the word 'enjoyed,' past tense, "Must you go?"

"No! I told you I could stay…I only meant that the afternoon is almost over,"

I hadn't even noticed. When I was alone with Gemma the rest of the world, along with time and other people, did not seem to exist.

"My God I hadn't even realized," I chuckled softly, "Would you like something to eat? Dinner perhaps?"

"Oh…I shouldn't…I have been eating too much lately,"

"Gemma what on earth are you talking about?" The girl must have weighed 100 pounds soaking wet!

"Well…being thin is part of my image, most girls are curvier that I am and it sets my apart,"

Gemma had a body that was ridiculously perfect. She was thin yes, but she was also…well endowed. In fact, now that I thought about it, she could do with a little more meat on her bones.

What struck me most though was that she would have any qualms about her looks. She was the most beautiful woman in the world, not only in my opinion but in the opinions of everyone from the United States to Italy. How could she think that one dinner at my home would affect any of this?

"Gemma I will not tolerate such nonsense! You will come and eat with me," Now that I had mentioned food I realized I was starving. Neither of us had eaten that day and it was damn time for a meal.

I stood at last; stretching my legs. I took Gemma's hand and pulled her up out of the chair.

"Erik I really shouldn't,"

"Don't be ridiculous! You haven't eaten all day!" I pulled her out of the room and towards the kitchen and dining room.

"That is not true! I ate after you left this morning,"

"Well you couldn't have eaten very much, Gemma you're much too thin!"

She hit my shoulder, "I am not! Don't say that to me!"

"Erik! What do you think you are doing!" Nadir had been listening to the conversation, but unfortunately he had been listening to only the last part of the conversation.

He pulled me away from Gemma and gave me a stern look, "I told you to leave her alone!"

"He did not do anything wrong," Gemma told Nadir quickly, crossing her arms and fixing him with an icy glare.

At first the two of them had gotten along well enough but the more our relationship had progressed it became clear to me that Gemma and Nadir would not be best friends any time soon. Nadir did not think it was right that I was romantically involved with Gemma, and Gemma did not like anyone who disapproved of her.

"He was simply telling me that I was too thin; we were about to have dinner," Gemma continued coldly.

"Oh," Nadir stepped back from me, embarrassed to have misread the situation so badly.

"You will be joining us won't you?" I asked him. Nadir and Gemma were both important people to me. It was not my wish that the two should dislike each other.

"I…" I could see the wheels working in my friend's head. How could he decline my offer without it being obvious that he did not want to be around Gemma? I laughed inwardly. When Gemma had first come strutting into our lives he had been much more impressed with her than I had been.

Unfortunately for him the wheels in Nadir's head could not turn fast enough.

"I suppose," Defeated Nadir walked back toward the kitchen. I pulled Gemma to my side and whispered in her ear.

"I am sorry about him,"

"It's alright," She smiled, "I like a challenge,"


	29. Hard To Say

Hard To Say

My kitchen was equipped with an ice box to keep the meats and cheeses I had delivered fresh. I opened one of the doors to see what I had in there.

"I still can not believe that you don't employ any servants Erik!" Gemma said as she sat down on her usual stool in my kitchen. Clearly I would not be receiving any help from her preparing a meal.

"I do not like the idea of people I do not know traipsing around my house," I told her simply.

"They wouldn't be traipsing," She laughed, her eye falling on a wine bottle. She got up gracefully to retrieve it and began hunting for a glass, "They would be cleaning and cooking; then you can devote more time to important matters…like being grumpy and stubborn,"

"Other cabinet, over there," I pointed her to the glasses she was vainly searching for.

"Oh, thank you," Gemma opened the cabinet door, "Nadir, will you be wanting a drink?" She called to him. Nadir was sitting at the dinning room table already. I supposed I would not be getting his help with dinner either.

"Several, I think," He called back to her.

"Lovely, than you can come and get one," She said flippantly, pouring her own drink and then turning around to face me, "Can I help you?"

I laughed, "I appreciate the offer Gemma, but I am not letting you near an open flame,"

"Erik I'm shocked! You think that because I am a rich, young daughter of a count who has grown up in the lap of luxury I do not know how to cook a meal!" She took the hunk of wrapped mutton out of my hand, "Stand aside!"

"Gemma, you are not trying to tell me that you know how to cook,"

"Just go Erik, sit down, pour yourself a drink, and relax," She shooed me out of the kitchen.

I sighed. I found out then and there that I loved Gemma enough to let her burn down my house to please her.

"You are letting her cook Erik?" Nadir asked me in a low voice.

I shrugged helplessly, "It seems that way,"

"Well if the cooking process doesn't kill us than I am sure the food will," He said dryly.

I watched Gemma from the dinning room. She opened every cabinet door and every drawer in the kitchen. I could see that the place would be a mess before she was done.

However not ten minutes later I could see that the stove had been lit and something smelled divine. Nadir was watching the kitchen as well, not able to believe that Gemma Chevalier could cook a meal.

But Gemma did not seem at all unsure of herself. She bustled around the kitchen, humming to herself and sipping her wine. She took everything I owned out of its place and looked at it without bothering to put it back.

In an hour and a half Nadir and I were being served roast mutton and fresh greens. There was some kind of seasoning smeared on top; amazingly it looked good.

"Voila!" Gemma said proudly, "And for dissert…you will be eating your words," She narrowed her green eye and blue eye playfully.

"Gemma, how is it possible that you know how to cook?"

"Well," She sat down with her own plate, "You two are very lucky because I am going to tell you something no one outside of my family knows," She set down her fork, "I was only fourteen when a man approached me about becoming a model; I knew I wanted it immediately but my parents were against it,"

I listened to her intently as I ate. She had a way of telling a story that enthralled whatever audience she had.

"They thought that it would ruin my reputation if I became a model, they thought it was beneath me," Gemma shrugged, "They weren't going to let me do it, so I ran away from home so I could; I didn't have any money of my own and I figured my father would disown me sooner or later so I secured a job in a bistro; one of the cooks became a close friend,"

"I'm sure your father would not have disowned you," I said. I liked Count Chevalier, he was to the point and honest.

"Don't be so sure," Gemma gave a hollow laugh, "He found me one day in that bistro and told me as much; I told him to go to hell! Then the next day I was in my first show,"

"I remember your debut," Nadir spoke at last, "The papers called you an overnight sensation,"

Gemma nodded, smiling wickedly, "I know! My father came crawling back to me when he realized I was the toast of the town…but I didn't go back to him without a little negotiation; how else could I do all the things I do? Erik I sent you down that tunnel off of my room because I thought it was funny! I could have waltzed you down the front stairs right under my father's nose and he wouldn't have said a word!"

I couldn't believe that anyone would want to disown Gemma. I could see how my mother would not want me, but who would not want Gemma? She was beautiful, talented, she was perfect!

"Could you imagine what everyone would think of my father if they knew he had tried to disown me? They would hate him!"

So Gemma not only had all of France wrapped around her little finger, she also had a strangle hold on her family. All of the people in her life were under her control.

Including me, I realized. Anything she asked me to do, anything she wanted from me I would give her.

"Anyway, that is how I learned to cook," Gemma picked up her fork and returned to her food. I did notice she had given herself a small portion.

Her food was amazing. I had the sneaking feeling that Gemma would be perfect at whatever she tried to do. Everything came to her effortlessly.

"What is in this?" Nadir found himself asking her.

"Arsenic,"

I looked up at Nadir, he looked over at Gemma who went about eating without paying attention to his stare.

He smiled at shook his head, "If I didn't dislike you Gemma I think I would like you very much,"

Her eyes flicked toward him, "Why do you dislike me?"

"Because I think you are going to break my best friend's heart,"

Gemma locked her gaze with his, "Nadir, I cannot tell you what will happen in the future, but I can promise you to treat your friend's heart with up most care for as long as it is in my keeping,"

Slowly Nadir nodded.

I felt like I should say something to Gemma…and to Nadir for that matter. I felt like I should thank them for having the most thoughtful conversation concerning me in a lifetime.

But I didn't know how to say that, so I said nothing.

"Erik told me you have taken a lover," Gemma brought our sentimental moment to an end.

"She is not a lover," Nadir blushed.

"Oh? Who is she then?" Gemma teased him.

"Victoria Winter is a sweet girl who has agreed to spend some of her free time with me,"

Gemma turned to me, "Erik your friend makes wonderful euphemisms for lover!"

"She is not a lover!" Nadir said indignantly through mine and Gemma's laughter, "Erik you were irritating enough on your own, now with Gemma here I doubt I will get a moment's peace!"

"Not if we can do anything about it," I told him, my hand covered Gemma's on the table. It was times like this when I felt like Gemma and I really had a chance. Our lives were different, but our personalities were so similar. If I spent a lifetime with her I doubted I would ever get board.

"How come I have never heard of this Veronica person?" Gemma asked.

"Victoria," Nadir corrected her, "And she doesn't care for the bright lights and loud noise of Paris, or of downtown Deauville for that matter,"

"Don't be silly! Everyone loves those places! Unless of course they are not accepted there," Gemma was good at uncovering the truth fast, "Is she poor?"

"No," Nadir defended his love quickly, "She is well to do; her father was an officer in the British Army,"

"And her mother?"

"She is…" Nadir paused, "She met Monsieur Winter when he was in India, her native country,"

"Oh! I see, so Victoria is party India and all the white, Europeans do not accept her?"

"Correct," Nadir said softy.

"Are you in love with her?" She asked bluntly.

"Yes,"

I knew how hard that must have been for him to say. Since losing his wife he had never fallen in love again.

"Nadir, that's wonderful," I told him. He nodded his face red and his eyes bright. He went silently back to his food.

When the meal was over Gemma when upstairs to draw herself a bath while I stayed in the kitchen to clean up her mess.

"Erik,"

"Yes?" Nadir was helping me.

"I still think you should be careful about Gemma; she is known for loving men and then leaving them,"

I put some spices back in their cabinets, "I know," I said without looking at him. I wanted to think about the present though, where Gemma was interest in me. I did not want to contemplate the future Nadir and I knew was inevitable.

"But I do understand your feelings for her better now," He admitted, handing me a glass so I could put it away, "At first I thought you were so taken by her because of her looks, but I understand her wit is quite like yours,"

"Nadir," I wanted to tell him that I appreciated his concern along with his friendship. Hearing him refer to me as his best friend meant a lot to me.

But I could not say any of that. It seemed silly and overly sentimental.

"Why don't you just go to bed? I can finish here," I told him instead. He nodded and went off into the darker shadows of the house.


	30. Giselle's Return

Some time later I retreated to my own room. The first thing I saw was Gemma. She was sitting at the vanity in my room I had always meant to take out. She was dressed in a nightgown and robe which she kept at my home.

Gemma stared at her lovely face in the mirror as she brushed her long silky blond hair. She eyes left her reflection when I entered.

"There you are! Where have you been?"

"Cleaning your mess in the kitchen," I stood behind her and caught the hand in her hair, "May I?"

"Of course,"

I took the brush from Gemma's hand. She had pulled her long hair over her shoulder to brush through all of it. It felt like silk as I moved the thick locks to her back.

"I don't think a man has ever brushed my hair before," She laughed.

"Why not? You have beautiful hair,"

She laughed again.

I liked watching the brush moving through her hair. I liked the feel of her soft, blond locks. And of course it smelled enticing.

"There," I lay the brush down on the vanity when I had finished working through all of her small tangles.

"Thank you," Gemma took her own hair in her hands and braided it for the night. She stood from the chair, "Are you coming to bed?"

"In a few moments,"

Gemma nodded and I leaned forward, placing my hands on her shoulders and kissing her forehead.

When I came back from the water closet Gemma was already in bed. She had removed her robe; I saw it draped over a chair. This meant that she only wore a small nightgown.

I lay down and immediately Gemma was right beside me.

"Good night Erik," She whispered. But she didn't seem to be in the mood for sleeping. She pressed her lips against mine.

So many times I had kissed her before, but this was different. In the dark room, in my bed, hidden under the sheets, I felt bolder. She wore no corset now, no extra skirts. I could feel _her_ under my hands, not yards and yards of fabric.

"Gemma," I was barely able to speak. I pulled away from her and held her for a moment at arms length, "Gemma I will be happy to share this bed with you and sleep, but I do not think you can keep…kissing me like this and expect nothing to happen…Gemma I think we are both getting carried away,"

Gemma's breath was coming fast and she slowly calmed down. She nodded, "I suppose,"

I had stopped us even though I felt like I wanted her so much it hurt. But what I did not want was for her to do something she would regret.

Gemma settled her head on my arm, her own arm thrown across my chest. I did not want to tell her that it was uncomfortable. However, to my surprise, I fell asleep right away.

Sun was pouring into the room; the night was over.

I looked over at Gemma's face. She looked perfect in the morning light. Her cheek was so smooth; not one blemish broke her porcelain skin. Thick lashes curved in the shape of crescent moons, hiding for the moment the stars Gemma had for eyes.

One the dazzling blue color of the sea, one the lush green of a forest, Gemma's eyes were like shinning jewels. They connected with you; they put you under a spell. Once you took one look at Gemma Chevalier you would never be the same.

I still wondered at how this ethereal creature had come to be in my bed. I reach out and caressed her cheek to make sure she was real. The moment I touched her those gleaming eyes opened and stared at me.

"Good morning," Gemma smiled before she brought her lips to mine.

Good morning indeed. How was it that this enchanting woman wanted me? And further more, with my hands tight around her slim waist and her body pressed to mine so passionately, who cared?

I felt a breeze against my face; Gemma's breath as she pulled away for a moment before her lips met mine again.

Her body was on top of mine now. For a girl who had such an aristocratic family and presumably such a prim upbringing Gemma was certainly not prude.

My hands roamed her body and I heard her gasp against my lips.

I wanted nothing more than to rip that damn nightgown off of her, which meant that I needed to stop touching her. I was not sure just how not prude Gemma was.

"Gemma darling," I whispered, my hands safely on her shoulders, "We should stop; I have to be going anyway or I will be late,"

"No!" Gemma smiled at me, not moving her body off of mine, "I don't want you to go," Her lips fell to my neck.

"I have to go," I forced the words out, "Your father is paying me to build his house; I don't think he would appreciate it if I left that job to stay in bed with his daughter,"

"He might not appreciate it," Gemma murmured, nipping my ear, "But I would,"

"You are damn hard to say no to," I said, wrapping my arm around her waist and kissed her hard on her lips. Carefully I rolled over so that Gemma's body was under mine, "But I have to," I broke our kiss reluctantly and slid out of the bed.

Gemma sighed, turning on her side and propping her head up with her hand, "Fine; if you don't mind Erik I think I will stay here today,"

"If you like; you do not need to go home?"

"No," Gemma yawned, "I'll stay here and get some more sleep,"

The idea of going out and having Gemma waiting for me in my bed was an enticing one.

And then I saw it. Laying there on the pillow where my head had been moments before was…my mask. I had worn it to bed of course because Gemma was there. How had it come off?

I picked up the mask off the bed and quickly and put it back on my face.

"You know it is much better to kiss you when you are not wearing that thing," Gemma said lazily, "It gets in the way,"

I remembered the breeze I had felt against my face. It hadn't been Gemma's breath; it had been her taking off the mask. She had removed the mask without my even noticing.

"Yes," I muttered darkly, "It gets in the way a lot of the time,"

Gemma laughed at me, "Look at you! So sad all of a sudden," Nimbly she climbed out of bed. For the first time I saw her in only her nightgown. It was very sheer and very tight on her body; not to mention the sunlit window behind her made the white cloth nearly transparent.

She stood close in front of me, her hands on her hips, "I cannot let you go when you are sad," Gemma pressed her lips against mine.

I brought her body to me, very aware of the fact that only thin silk kept the two of us apart.

Gemma pulled away, "Are you happy now?"

"Yes," I kissed her forehead, "But I have to go now darling,"

Our eyes met. It was the first time I had called her 'darling,' or any name of the sort. It was true that we had been on an intimate level for some time now, but this was admitting it out loud. I wondered if I had been right in calling her that; I did not know if she was my darling or not.

To my relief Gemma smiled, "I like the way that sounds," She kissed my cheek before turning away and climbing back into my bed.

I wanted to follow her but I was woefully late.

"Damn," I muttered, checking the clock in my room after changing. Gemma was watching me looking everywhere for my shoes, "I'm going to have to run down to the site,"

"You need a horse Erik," She yawned, snuggling down under the blankets.

"I know," I leaned over and kissed her once and ran out the door.

I was miserably late to the site, but I wasn't miserable at all. My heart felt oddly light in my chest; I had a darling girl sleeping in my bed, waiting for me to come home.

The rain had set us back again but it was nothing too tragic. Some of the wood had gotten wet even though we had tried to cover most of it. However the sun was hot and it was drying quickly.

"You seem, dare I say, happy today Monsieur," Raoul Simon said; he and I were surveying the work on the site, "Had a good day off?"

"I did," I actually laughed. Simon seemed startled, "And you? Did you enjoy yourself?"

"Yes, but I do not think it was a good as yours," Simon smirked, "Tell me, will Gemma Chevalier be joining us today?"

"I wouldn't know anything about it," But my aloof response did nothing to hide the truth. Simon laughed; he knew.

By the time noon came I was happy to break from work but even happier that the day was half over. I wanted to go home and be with Gemma again.

However, just as food was being brought under the tents I saw I would not be eating without the company of a Chevalier. Giselle had come back.

Giselle demurely greeted everyone at the site, slowly working her way towards me. I wondered what she had to say to me. It seemed like long ago that it was her I waited for so longingly.

"Erik," She smiled when she was in front of me at last, "Could we?" She motioned to the area we used to eat in when she came to the site everyday.

I nodded wordlessly and followed her away. Simon shot me a questioning look as we walked away to which I could only shrug.

When we were out of ear shot of the other men Giselle began to speak.

"I am sorry Erik; I should have come down to see you before,"

"There is no need to apologize Giselle, I understand," This was going to be an awkward conversation.

"No, I owed you an explanation, I should have been honest with you, and instead I sent my sister in my place," Giselle didn't look at me; her eyes stared off into the sea.

"Giselle please, there is no need for this, I should be thanking you for sending Gemma in your stead," If she hadn't where would I be?

"That is what I need to talk to you about Erik," Giselle's eyes finally met mine, "I saw you riding away from our house that morning; and I am going to assume that currently my sister is resting that blond head of hers in your bed?"

My eyes widened. I did not want Giselle to think I was some lecher taking advantage of her younger sister.

"Giselle I assure you, I have honest feelings for you sister, I—"

"Oh Erik I know _you_ do!" Giselle sighed, "I am not here to chide you for that, but Erik, I worry for you; Gemma does not have a good record where men are concerned,"

"I see," I said coldly. What did these people think? Nadir and now Giselle, that I did not know anything about Gemma? I knew her past as well as anyone else; I knew that wherever she went she left a trail of broken men in her wake.

What irritated me was that no one could see that we were happy together. All anyone was doing was questioning our relationship, telling me I could not have her, that I was not the one for her. But until the day Gemma told me she did not want to see me anymore I would not hear any of it.

"Erik you deserve someone better than my sister," Giselle said kindly. Apparently one person in the world did not worship Gemma.

"Like who mademoiselle?" I snapped, "Like you? You who thought I was an outcast in love with a man who you conceded to befriend? Or do you mean the numerous other women interested in me?"

Giselle's eyes widened, "Erik I did not mean to anger you, I only want to warn you; you are not like the other men Gemma has seen,"

"Yes I know," I said through gritted teeth, "I am much different,"

"I mean to say that you are better than they are," Giselle said before I could go any further, "You are a kind person Erik, you aren't like the rich, handsome young men she usually runs around with,"

"So I am not rich or handsome or young, that is what you came here to tell me?" I shook my head, "Giselle so far _you_ are the only Chevalier sister who has upset me; Gemma is the one who has made me happy; maybe you should talk to her and tell her to be kind to me instead of coming here and giving me this warning of yours,"

Giselle sighed, "I already have Erik; I let her come down to you to talk to you in my stead because she offered," Giselle was looking out at the ocean again, "I should never have let her; I should have recognized that look on her face…like she is planning out exactly what will happen next…whatever she does with you Erik, she knew it from the beginning,"

"You know," Giselle's eyes flicked back to mine, "I wrote her about you; she is the one who put the idea in my head that you were interested in men instead of women,"

Her assessment of Gemma's mind state when she had begun her friendship with me was startling. However I was not going to stop seeing Gemma because of it. Maybe she did have a master plan for us and I was just along for the ride, but for now I was enjoying the ride.

"Thank you for your concern Giselle…but I love your sister; so until she throws me out of her life…I'll be with her,"

Giselle sighed, "As you wish Erik, I just hope you know what you are doing,"

She left the site after that and I tried to forget her words. Gemma had everything I ever wanted. She was quick, talented, she didn't care that my face looked like something a rat had chewed up and then spit out, not to mention she was stunningly beautiful. And even though a part of me felt like all of it was too good to be true, I was happy with her.

Giselle did not stay at the site. She left after she had given me her opinion about mine and her sisters developing relationship.

"I have not seen her in awhile," Simon approached me after she left, "What did the other Mademoiselle Chevalier have to say?"

"She does not think that my…friendship with her sister is wise," I said coldly.

"And why is that?"

"She thinks Gemma will run off and leave me heartbroken,"

"You aren't going to stop seeing her are you? Because even if she does leave you, at least you would have had her for awhile,"

I gave Simon a half smile. At last someone understood.


	31. So Many Question

When I returned the house was quiet. I assumed that when I could not find Nadir in the house he had gone off to see Victoria. But where was Gemma?

My first thought, actually my hope, was that she was in my bedroom. It was silly to think that she would have spent all day in that bed but it was an alluring thought none the less.

I checked the bedroom first and was rewarded. Gemma was sitting on top of the unmade bed, pillows propping up her body. She was reading some book I had kept in my room but when I entered she looked up.

"Finally! I was wondering when you would be coming back," She tossed the book aside and looked exasperatedly at me.

I sat down next to her on the bed. I kissed her, wrapping an arm around her. It was good to feel the touch of her skin, of her lips, again. It had only been eight hours since I had last tasted her but it felt like an eternity.

It was then that I realized something else. It wasn't just that I missed kissing Gemma; it was that I missed seeing her, I missed hearing her voice. All day I had been wondering; what was she doing? Was she laughing, board, tired? What would she think of the work we were doing at the site?

"You could have returned to your home," I told her before I kissed her again.

"Would you have wanted me to?" She asked coyly.

"No," She laughed as I pressed my lips to hers again.

"I have a surprise for you," Gemma murmured as our kiss became more heated.

"Hmm," As much as I really did want to know what she had been occupying herself with all day, at the moment words did not interest me.

"Alright!" Gemma pushed me away, a grin spreading across her lips, "Enough Erik; come I have something to show you,"

She hopped off the bed, grabbing my hand and pulling me off with her. Gemma led the way out of the room; I assumed she would not be showing me what I had a growing desire to see.

"Where are you taking me Gemma?" She was dragging me through the house and toward the front door.

"You are so impatient Erik," Gemma shook her head as she threw open the front door, "Just wait and see,"

She was taking me over to the stables. Suddenly I heard it, a whinny from the stables.

"Gemma," I stared at the girl's growing smile, "You didn't,"

"Go on and see," She laughed.

I burst into the stable and the large eyes of a chestnut colored horse met mine.

"Gemma," I turned around to see her smiling at me and at the horse, "What…?"

She laughed, "He's a stallion Erik, a new breed, a mix of Friesian and Thoroughbred; he's a Gelderland,"

"But…where did you get him? You didn't take him out of your stables did you?" What would Count Chevalier say if he saw me one day on one of his horses?

Gemma laughed again, "No of course not! I went to a breeder I know,"

"How much do I owe you for him?" I approached the horse, letting him sniff my hand before I ran it up and down the white blaze on his head.

"Don't be foolish Erik! Even if I had paid for the horse I wouldn't let you pay me back! This is a gift!"

I stared at her, "What do you mean you didn't pay for it?"

She shook her head, "That's right Erik, not only am I the daughter of a count, a famous model, I am also a horse thief!"

"Do I sense sarcasm?"

"Yes you do," Gemma came forward and began to pet the horse's neck, "This is a very new breed and I was given this horse! If someone sees me with it then it's bound to sell successfully,"

"But…how will people see you with him if you gave him to me?"

"The breeder gave him to me, he cannot tell me what to do with him after he is mine; Erik, you needed a horse! He's a very good one and I thought you would like him,"

I stared at her. I had never been given a gift, nothing like this anyway. No one had ever seen I needed something and gone out and gotten it for me.

"Do you like him Erik?" Gemma looked a bit confused.

"Yes," I said in a tight voice. I was moved by her gift; I never would have expected it. It was kind, it was thoughtful; it was more than I had ever expected from her, "Yes Gemma I like him very much,"

"Good," She put her hand on my shoulder, "Are you certain nothing is wrong Erik?"

She must have seen how bright my eyes were.

"No, nothing is wrong, I'm just…not used to…gifts," I looked away from her and back toward the horse. I did not want her to see how much this affected me. Normal people did not react this way when they were given something. They were happy, they smiled, they did not start crying.

"Erik," Gemma said softly, taking a step closer.

I took a step back. At some point I wanted her to know all I had been through; I wanted to tell her everything. Perhaps that would give me some kind of closure. But I was not sure I was ready to tell her, of if she could even handle what my story.

I would wait then, until she asked me why I was the way I was.

But at that moment, she did not ask me.

"Erik why don't we take your horse out for a ride? And you have to name him," She refused to let my mood turn somber.

"Of course," I was about to open the stall door when I realized, "Gemma I don't have anything…a bridle, a saddle…"

She smiled again, "I am almost afraid to tell you this, but I have all that for you to, along with feed and a horse blanket,"

The horse was very mild tempered and let me ready it for our ride.

Gemma hopped up into the saddle. She wore a simple rising dress, no bustle or excessive layers of skirts, so there was more than enough room for me to sit behind her.

The horse trotted eagerly out of the stable and I guided him down to the beach. I knew this would be a pleasant ride; Gemma's body pressed against mine, my arms around her waist.

"What are you going to name him?" She asked me. We were trotting away from Deauville into a stretch of beach I had never seen before. It was still ungodly hot out and the added breeze on the beach was a relief.

"What do you think I should name him?"

"He is your horse Erik! Name him whatever you want,"

"Can I name him Gemma?"

"Don't be stupid Erik,"

"Fine…Giovanni then,"

"What?"

"The horse's name, he is going to be named Giovanni,"

"Erik! You can not name a horse Giovanni!"

"You told me I could chose any name I desired,"

Gemma sighed, "Fine…but why on earth do you want to name your horse Giovanni?"

"Giovanni was a…a man I once knew," Gemma had inadvertently asked a very loaded question, "He taught me about building and masonry…without him I doubt the two of us would have ever met,"

"Oh, well then," Gemma patted the stallion's thick neck, "Giovanni he is,"

We trotted along the beach. The sun was setting, the might Atlantic looked as though it was bleeding as the burning sun cast its ruddy rays across the waves.

"Red sun," Gemma murmured, "The storms must have left us for now,"

I whispered my agreement in her ear, kissing the shell as I did so. Gemma was so close to me I could not help but feel the shiver of pleasure run up and down her spine.

"That house, do you think that is where your friend Nadir goes to see that Velma person?"

Gemma nodded toward a house that was actually not far from mine. I had never noticed it there before, but then there was a line of trees blocking it from the view of my household.

"It could be, and I believe her name is Victoria,"

"Velma, Victoria…completely interchangeable," Gemma shrugged.

I laughed, brushing her hair aside and kissing her neck; indecently not an easy thing to do on a moving horse.

By the time I turned the horse around it was dark.

"Am I taking you home now mademoiselle?" I asked her.

"I should think not…unless of course you do not want me to stay," Gemma said smoothly.

I laughed. Without answering her I turned the horse up toward my stable. She would not be going home that night. I had given up questioning the propriety of our relationship. Gemma did not see anything wrong with it; who was I to complain?

It was hot that night. The air hung thick even though the sun had set. Worn out from a full day of working I was ready to turn in.

Gemma however had spent the whole day in relative inactivity and was not going to let me. We retired to my room and I was allowed to climb into bed but that was it.

She changed into her light nightgown through which her body was almost visible. Of course with her laying above the sheets in _that_ I would not be sleeping any time soon.

"It's so hot Erik," She complained, "I can't stand it,"

"Well I have an idea," I told her, "Wait one moment,"

I retrieved a large glass of cold water and brought it back to the bedroom.

"Oh thank you," Gemma reached out for the glass.

I shook my head and kept it out of her reach, "No darling; it's not for drinking, just lay still,"

Gemma raised her eyebrows and gave me a questioning smile but she did as I said. She settled down, her head resting on two pillows and her eyes on me.

I dipped my fingers into the cool water and then let the drops fall off my hand onto Gemma's skin.

She purred and closed her eyes. I took the opportunity to surprise her by letting a drop of the cool water fall unto her lips. Her blue eye and green eye shot open and met mine.

I set the water on a table by the bed before I pressed my lips to hers. I felt her arms come around me, pulling me down on top of her.

Our kiss was hard; passionate, but I guess it was not enough for Gemma. Without breaking out kiss she reached up to my face and took of the mask.

I hated that it bothered me so much. I hated that I flinched.

She noticed. Gemma pulled away, "Erik?"

"I'm sorry Gemma," I said softly, "I need that," I reached for the mask.

Gemma put the damn thing behind her back and shook her head.

"Gemma, please," I knew I sounded frantic but the more I knew she was looking at me the more I wanted the mask back.

"Erik you are being so ridiculous!" Gemma refused to give me the mask, "Why do you have to wear it when I am around?"

It must have been the heat on top of everything else. Giselle telling me Gemma had a master plan already worked out, Nadir telling me to be careful with her, and Gemma's way of ignoring what she did not like.

I was angry with her.

"You listen to me," I grabbed her writs, "You may be used to getting your way with everyone else but I will not stand for it! You will give me that mask!"

She yanked her writs away, "Stop it Erik!" She took a few deep breaths and stared back at my angry face.

"I only thought you would sleep better with it off," Gemma tossed the mask down on the bed between us. I still looked distrustfully at her. Everyone was warning me that she had something planned, that Gemma Chevalier was something almost sinister.

Nothing could have gotten me to believe that, except her request about my mask. Even though I could not imagine what it was, I felt as though she were planning some kind of humiliation. It occurred to me then that every relationship I had ever had with a woman had ended in my mortification.

But as I looked back at Gemma I saw the look in her blue eye and green eye turn to a deep sadness. She turned away from me, sliding to the far side of the bed. She lay with her back to me.

Now what had I done? I had probably scared her when I had grabbed at her. Yes, she had pulled herself away, but only because I had let her. She had probably realized I could overpower her. I hated to think she believed I would trap her here.

"You may go Gemma," I said heavily.


	32. To Be Seen

To Be Seen

"Are you just dismissing me now Erik?" Her beautiful features contorted into a scowl, "What have I ever done to you to make you mistrust me?"

"I am not thinking of what you have done to me but of what you have done in the past,"

The moment the words came out of my mouth I realized I was being unfair. What about what I had done in the past? Gemma did not know any of my more disreputable past acts, but I knew everything she had done. It was an unfair advantage.

Who would be distrusting who if I told her I had been the infamous Opera Ghost?

"That is not fair Erik and you know it," She shook her head, "Why is this happening? Erik, I thought you would feel better without the mask because it is so damn hot tonight! If you like wear the silly mask!" She threw the mask at me, "I do not want to fight! Wouldn't you rather be kissing me than yelling at me?"

I nodded, setting the mask aside. I was defeated; Gemma had made her point and it was a good one. Or at least, it seemed impossible to disagree with her for long. She had that way about her.

It was so hot that Gemma did not push herself into my arms like she usually did. She lay close to me still though and closed her eyes.

Sleep did not come easily to me. The heat made it difficult enough without all the questions buzzing in my head.

Giselle told me Gemma was the one who suggested that I might be interested in men. That would keep Giselle from developing feels for me. But Giselle was getting married so it did not matter…did it?

Gemma had offered to go to the site and tell me about Giselle's engagement. After that she had taken Giselle's place coming to the site every day. She had also taken the place of her sister in my heart.

She had to have known that I would fall in love with her. She had to have predicted that I would find her irresistible.

So why then? What did Gemma want from me? I had no doubt that she had a plan in mind for our relationship and I could not believe that it was her design to marry me. So what did she want from me?

Gemma was a mystery. She had the world's attention and it was clear to me she enjoyed being so worshiped she could get away with anything.

Was that why she had taken up with me? Did she want to prove that she could even be seen with an awkward masked man with no title or family to speak of but still be admired by all?

These questions swirled around in my mind as the night wore on.

I felt so tired but I could not seem to sleep. Every time I closed my eyes for a few minutes they ended up shooting back open.

Restless I got up and began to pace my room. Back and forth I walked past the open window. The moon was high in the inky night sky.

My house was old, very old. It was never silent; aged boards creaked and groaned under the weight of time and the strain of the summer heat.

I leaned out of my window, inhaling and hoping the fresh night air would clear my thoughts. I felt a cool breeze against my still unmasked face. Perhaps the night would cool down after all.

When I turned to my left I jumped. I have only been startled a few times in my life and this was defiantly one of them.

Gemma stood there, her different colored eyes glowing in the moonlight.

How had she gotten there so quickly and so quietly? Having just spent the past few hours thinking of her as sly, conniving…her appearance was almost…frightening.

"Can't you sleep?" She asked in a silky voice.

I merely shook my head.

"Come back to bed darling," She took my hand.

I had spent most of my life exploiting my influence on people; my voice, my threats, anything so I could get what I wanted…or more frequently, what I needed.

Now I was getting it back ten fold. Gemma had the same power over me as she had over everyone else; her words went straight to my heart.

She lay down beside me, one arm across my chest. She pressed her lips to my ear.

"I can help you fall asleep my darling," She whispered.

In a soft, sweet voice she began a song. I laughed at first at the irony of _her_ singing to _me_, but then her voice got in. She had a light, airy voice that was quite charming…relaxing…

I was asleep before I knew it.

Hours later I woke up again; this time because I was cold. I reached down to the foot of the bed for the blanket I kept there. Pulling Gemma close to me I wrapped us both in the blanket and settled back in to sleep.

The mask lay forgotten on the other side of the bed.

In the morning I tried to get out of bed without waking her but I failed in the attempt. The moment I moved Gemma tightened her arms around me, locking them in a vice like grip. I say 'vice' not because Gemma was particularly strong but because I knew that I did not have it in me to shake her off.

"I _have_ to go," I kissed her forehead as I tried to get her to let me go.

"No!" She said in a firm, if not somewhat sleepy, voice, "Stay awhile longer,"

"You know I can't,"

"Yes you can! That is why you have the horse remember,"

She was right; now that I had a horse it would take considerably less time to get to the site. I would have to spend my extra time wisely.

Gemma let me leave half an hour later after she was fully satisfied. I left her asleep in my bed.

The first time Gemma and I had slept in the same bed together I had rationalized that we had little choice. A storm had been about to break and other than her bed there was no where else to really sleep.

Every time after that had been completely inappropriate. Even though it was always her idea to spend the night I could not help but feel as though I was taking advantage of her. I was the older one in the relationship; shouldn't I have put an end to this clearly improper behavior?

I thought about telling her we needed to end our nightly companionship but I could never seem to get the words out of my mouth. I suppose it was because my heart was dead set against it.

Like a fool I had let Gemma take my heart in her hands. Now I knew why they called it _falling_ in love; suddenly the ground had disappeared beneath my feet and I had no control over my quick decent downward.

"Well Monsieur," Simon greeted me when I arrived at the site, "You got yourself a horse at last,"

I nodded, dismounting the animal.

"He's a beauty," Simon patted the stallion's neck, "What kind is he?"

"Ah…Gelderland," I said, remembering what Gemma had told me.

"What's his name?"

"Giovanni,"

"That's a strange name for a horse," Simon laughed, "Did Gemma invent that?"

"No," I said shortly; I did not want Simon to get the idea that Gemma was in control of what I did. Of course, I do not think he would have held it against me. To tell the truth, he probably thought that anyway.

"Alright," Simon laughed at my brisk tone, "It was only a question,"

I grunted in response. Simon brought me over to where they had started to put up a rather complicated frame work. Of course, as they had started without me, they were not doing it correctly.

After I explained how I wanted the thing constructed Simon and I moved on.

"Did you see yourself in the paper?"

My head swiveled to stare at Simon, "No," I said slowly.

"Oh! There was a story in the local paper and you and young Mademoiselle Gemma Chevalier,"


	33. One Sunny Afternoon

_I know I know; I am a terrible person for leaving all my stories for so long! I've been so damn busy! I'm sure you all understand that sometimes life gets in the way! Thank you for your patience! _

_A word on this chapter; the end is a bit racy so if that is not your style I apologize! _

One Sunny Afternoon

I felt as though his words were like ice creeping into my veins; slowly I froze.

"Oh?" I tried to act as though his words did not bother me.

"Yes, about how the two of you were seen out together,"

"Hm," I tried not to let the panic I felt creep into my voice. I did not want to be mentioned in a newspaper, especially romantically linked to Gemma.

"Lovely picture too," Simon continued, "They got your good side Monsieur,"

My eyes snapped to Simon as I tried to read his words. Was that a sarcastic quip about the mask or no? In any case, I knew I did not have a good side.

It was beginning, the attention Nadir had warned me against. Somehow I had hoped that interest in Gemma's beaus would not stretch to me. I was not anyone of note. I should have known that very fact made me even more intriguing.

I did not want to be in the newspaper, I did not want to think about people seeing my picture. Yet, despite trying to appear unmoved by the news in front of Simon I desperately wanted to see this article. What did it say? What about me was being revealed to the people of Deauville?

At my home I received the newspaper from Paris, not Deauville. Wishing to avoid the humiliation of buying a paper simple because I was in it, I knew I would have to devise another way of obtaining it.

Happily, an opportunity presented itself as the workday ended. One of the men had left a paper on a lunch bench. Checking once to be sure that no one saw I snatched up the paper. I did not read it there. I could not bare the thought of someone catching me reading an article about Gemma and myself.

I waited until the road turned away and I was out of the site of even those smaller cottages on the outskirts of Deauville. I rained in my horse and whipped out the paper.

The pages could not be turned fast enough. Desperately I flipped to the society section.

My eyes drank in the black and white print.

It was worse than I thought. The picture of Gemma and I was quite large. They had indeed captured what could be considered my good side; that was the side of my face not covered by the mask. Gemma was in the foreground in any case. All the focus would be on her. She looked as beautiful and demure as ever.

My eyes flitted over the article. Words jumped out at me. Gemma Chevalier, famous socialite, new love interest, Erik Bonheur…

Surly that could not be my name written in the paper? Surly some other man was the subject of this article?

I wondered how many others had read it. How many men had tossed this very paper aside in their morning rooms after giving it a quick glance; just reading enough to know Gemma Chevalier had taken on another man. Meanwhile, how many women picked up this paper with unbound interest to read about the love life of their favorite socialite?

What would this attention bring me? All my life I had known to shun the light most walked in. I was best off alone, away from the society and company of the rest of the world. Too many questions, too many unforgiving looks.

My eyes left the paper to focus on the wooded grove to the right of me. The trees were lush and green, the grass long and the occasional rustle told me that things were scurrying about in there, completely unaware of my problems.

If only I could go into those woods and forget all these things! But I would never be happy, not alone. I could not go in under those trees. Society was where I belonged…but somehow I still felt I could never belong to society.

With a great sigh, I urged my horse to take me home.

Once I had Giovanni happily settled in the stable I headed quickly for the house, thinking of getting upstairs to Gemma. Yet as I put my foot on the stair leading upward I knew she was not in my room. I could smell her fragrance, white lily, hanging in the air. She must have passed by here soon.

It was impossible to explain how I could almost feel Gemma just standing there, frozen with one foot on the stair. That sense of her, it drew me away from the steps and toward the small ballroom.

Even though I had felt as though the very air around me was telling me she was in there, I was a bit surprised that she actually was. Was it possible for a woman to be so enchanting that even the silent air would speak her praise and send me to her?

Her hair was piled on top of her head, only a few strands brushed her neck and her forehead. Her elegant hand was outstretched and she was running it gracefully back and forth over my paintings.

"That took me a long time," I said to her as I watched her gaze at my work.

Gemma did not flinch. She did not even turn to face me. Gemma was not surprised that I was there.

"This is really very beautiful. You are a talented man Erik," She smiled at me then. She took her hand off the wall and moved toward me. Her lips came to mine in a very friendly greeting. I held her then; my arms had gladly moved around her and she seemed content to stay close to me.

I heard her sigh and she circled her arms around my waist. Her head settled on my chest. I wondered why she was feeling so affectionate.

"What is this?" Gemma had found the newspaper I had tucked into the back of my pants. I knew there was nothing I could say that would stop her from looking. It did not matter; she would have seen it anyway.

Although she let go of me to flip though the paper she did not move away. I was still holding her.

"Oh," Gemma smiled when she realized why I was carrying the paper, "We look good together I think," Her eyes scanned the paper, "They are very kind to you; look here, they call you a genius,"

I stared at her. I had no idea what she was talking about; I had not actually read the article. I took the paper from her.

_Erik Bonheur seems not to actually belong to the same social circle as Mademoiselle Chevalier however sources close to the man state that it is his genius that wooed Gemma Chevalier. _

"Sources close to me?" I was confused, "Who is close to me?"

"I am,"

"What?"

"Oh Erik," Gemma laughed, "I told that to someone. They repeated it to someone else and so on until it became general news. You have to understand, quite a few people will be claiming they know you,"

"Why?"

She sighed, "Because! You are news now! And no one likes to think that they are not part of the news. They will not want to think that I have surprised them,"

"Gemma," I said heavily, "I do not want to be…news,"

She looked at me as though I had said something truly idiotic, "Why ever not?"

I realized that more than any other difference, this was the greatest gap between Gemma and I. Gemma loved the spot light, she loved being the center off all society. I would have been happy to stay in my house and live quietly. A depressing thought occurred to me then; I would never be able to lock her away from the rest of the world with me.

"Gemma attention has never…benefited me,"

"Well," Gemma smiled at me, "Perhaps it was not the right kind of attention. I promise you darling, nothing bad will come of this,"

Oddly enough, her reassurance scared me more than the initial article had.

"Erik," She laughed, "Honestly darling, you make the most grave faces! Your mention in the paper is not an obituary! Can you not trust me when I tell you that this is nothing to worry about?"

Surly I was being foolish? Had I not just sworn to myself that I would not let all these things, all these worries and misgivings, hurt my relationship with Gemma? If she said it was of no importance, than it wasn't.

"Of course," I kissed the top of her head, "Now tell me, what have you done with yourself all day?" I preferred to think of other things than this paper.

"Nothing at all," Gemma folded the paper in her hands and placed her arms around me, "I think I would like to go with you to the site tomorrow. I feel as though it has been ages since I went down there,"

I sighed, "So then you will be going home tonight?" I was very used to her staying in my home and I did not really care for a change of pace.

"No,"

"Gemma," I drew away from her, "You plan on arriving at the site…with me?"

The calm I had managed to regain moments before was gone. If Gemma came to the site with me, on my horse for that matter, everyone would know she was still staying at my house…and with the recent news of our romantic involvement in the paper…

"Is that a problem?"

"Gemma…won't that…seem…"

"Erik everyone already knows! Everyone in Deauville knows about our relationship, and that I am staying here! Darling, stop being so afraid!"

"I am not afraid! I am simply…cautious,"

"Well then, stop being so cautious," Gemma closed the distance between us. She slid her arms around my neck and pressed her lips to mine. Her kiss was enough to make me forget for the moment about the story in the paper and about Gemma's plans for the next day.

I felt as though no matter how tightly I held her we were not close enough. I stepped forward until I had Gemma's back against the wall. My hand slid from her waist upward until…until I reached that spot that I was never sure I was allowed to touch.

In all the times we had been together I had not gone past killing her lips…her neck. My hands had stayed on her back. I wanted more; I wanted so much more.

Gemma felt my hesitation. Her lips left mine for a moment.

"I told you Erik; do not be so cautious!"

That was all that I needed. My hand touched her breast at last. But I needed more than a light feel over her corset and dress. I yanked at the back, loosening the top. I heard Gemma gasp and I stopped.

"No Erik please don't stop," She breathed, and I noted a tone of slight desperation in her voice.

Who was I to deny her that request? I pulled again. Gemma let go of me to help me with the knots.

The dress loosened. I kissed her lips, her neck…lower…

Something loud banged upstairs. The sound stopped us both dead.

"Is Nadir here?" I asked Gemma.

She stared back at me. She was breathing rather hard and her eyes were wide, "I did not think so, but I can not be sure. Perhaps we should go upstairs?"

Her last sentence was spoken in such a questioning tone, so uncertain, so unlike her. I nodded; something about her sudden change in demeanor encouraged me. She was just as nervous as I was, no matter what brave face she put on.

I took her hand, leading her up the stairs. We rushed our steps; each of us looking around wildly, hoping we did not see anyone or anything that would affect our plan.

We did not. For once Nadir had the sense to stay away. I practically threw Gemma into my room and then locked the door. I did not even have a chance to wonder if this was too much for her. As I turned from the dead bolt I saw her rapidly undo her dress and step out of it.

I did not want to rush this however. I saw her hands move to the ties on her corset and I caught them.

I turned her so that she faced away from me. No boy in history had ever unwrapped a gift with as much care and excitement as me as I untied that corset.

Part of me desperately wanted to toss the damn thing aside and move on. Yet still I removed it slowly; I had waited such a terribly long time for this and I did not want to spoil it.

The corset came off gently and was discarded. I knew Gemma was feeling the sudden rush of air against her body. I heard her sigh and she leaned against me.

Enough with this waiting! My time had finally come; I could finally take the woman I loved in my arms and be with her in the way I desired.

My hands wrapped around her stomach, pulling her tighter too me. I heard her gasp but she gave me no reason to believe she wished me to stop. She lifted her arms as I drew her chemise off over her head. At last nothing separated the two of us.

Truly at that moment I did feel that nothing was between us; all our problems were forgotten. I loved her; I hardly thought as my hands touched her flesh. I had never been able to feel a woman like this before.

I wasn't scared; I did not hesitate or worry as I placed my hands on her hips and then slowly brought them upward.

Gemma sighed; she even giggled a bit as my fingers touched her and I could feel her skin twitch with delight as I drew my fingertips over her. I brought my lips down on her neck.

She turned in my arms; she tore off my mask and kissed me with a kind of frantic need. However the mask was far from my mind. The only thing I cared about was Gemma; the weight of her in my arms, the feel of her soft breath against my neck…

Her little hands grabbed at my shirt; un buttoning some and ripping the rest. I gladly shrugged off the clothing. Gemma's hands ran up my arms before she locked her arms around my neck.

They say that man was once simply another animal; it must be true for I believe that instinct still resides a bit in all humans. Nothing was more natural to me, nothing could have been more logical, than to bring my arms around Gemma; holding her just below her legs I lifted her. She was as light as air as I carried her to my bed.

I lay her down, watching her hair fan out on the pillow. My God she was a beautiful sight to drink in; she inhaled with excitement and anticipation and smiled. I had never seen a creature more perfect; why on earth was she looking so adoringly at me?

Oh what did it matter! The feel of my lips against those perfect ones was much better even than staring at them. One arm was under her, around her shoulder. The other was free to roam over her soft skin. I heard her moan against my lips. I began kissing her neck instead; I wanted to hear her voice as I touched her.

It was heavenly; amazing to feel her soft skin under my hands…under my lips! Moreover, to have her loving arms wrapped around me so tightly; wanting me as much as I wanted her.

I could not say what made me do it…no that would be a lie. I knew exactly why. I wanted every part of her to be mine to touch, to love.

My hand fell to her leg, slowly pushing the skirt slip she was wearing up her thigh.

"Mm wait Erik," Her hand stopped mine. She stared at me with an apologetic look in her eyes that broke my heart. I had to remember she was not the enigmatic creature I made her in my mind. She was just a young woman. I had been carried away on my desires to have her at last and forgotten she might not be as ready.

"It is not that I don't want to darling," She said gently, smiling at me and stealing another kiss, "I am just not ready,"

"I understand," I told her quickly. I took my hand off of her leg, entwining my fingers with hers. "This is not a decision that should be taken lightly, and I would never want to make you feel…obligated to do anything you are unsure of. I can wait; take as long as you need to think,"

After this little speech, which I thought filled with beautiful emotion and understand Gemma, to my surprise, began to laugh.

"I didn't mean that darling! I meant ready as in unprepared! I don't have anything to keep me from…getting pregnant,"

I must have looked amusingly bewildered because Gemma laughed harder. She wrapped both of her arms around me and pressed her lips to mine.

"You look darling when you are taken by surprise," She whispered in my ear.

We settled down, laying close to each other. Gemma made no move to try and cover herself up. She seemed happy to lie there that way. I watched her; a small smile on her puffy lips, a ray of afternoon sun lighting her hair…she was irresistible.

I turned onto my side, placing one hand on her stomach. I kissed her forehead and she turned to me, allowing our lips to meet.

My fingers traced little circles up and down her stomach and I felt her begin to squirm again, her arms fell around my neck. I realized there was still much we could do without worrying about creating another life.


	34. Long Time Gone

A/N: I am a bad person, I know this. I am so sorry to have left this (and other) stories for as long as I have. It was totally unfair to the people who have been kind enough to read. I am posting this really long chapter now and you can expect more to some soon. I have written out most of the story already and I have made a few changes, most notably that Nadir's love interests name is now Victoria Ward. Other than that it is the same story. Thanks for you patience! Enjoy!!!

**Long Time Gone**

Gemma and I stayed in that room all afternoon just enjoying each other. I kissed and caressed every part of her. To my surprise she was just as curious about me. I didn't know what could be so interesting about myself but to my delight I found that when Gemma's body rested on top of mine I didn't care.

"Look Erik; the sun is setting already," Gemma looked out of my window some time later, getting up from the bed for the first time in hours.

She walked over to stare out of the window and her naked body, the slip had come off, was silhouetted against the red sky.

I watched Gemma stretch her lovely limbs briefly before she returned to my bed.

"Are you hungry darling? It is late," I wrapped my arms around her.

"No; let's just lay here,"

If only we could simply do that. If there was no newspaper, no other people…no one else at all watching Gemma's, and now my, every move. Yet that could not be and the next day at the site I would discover just how the rest of my relationship with Gemma would work, and the first shadow of Gemma's awesome personality would be lightened.

How many men have wished the moon to still in the sky and stay the morn when they have their lover in their arms? Surly I could not be the first.

Yet if any of these men have had their wish granted, I was not to be counted among them. Morning followed a glorious night and it seemed that even the sun would celebrate my latest triumph. It rose clear and bright; its golden fingers reached through the glass of the windows, shaking me awake.

The sun glanced off Gemma's hair. Even it was put to shame by the bright color of her own yellow locks.

As I gazed at her my bliss felt suddenly less grand; did Gemma still plan to come with me to the site? It was true that everyone already either knew or at least suspected our current living situation, yet still something made me very uneasy.

I thought of trying to sneak out of the bed and rushing to the site before she could wake. I did try but my efforts were all for naught; the moment I moved her eyes fluttered open.

"Good morning darling," Gemma cooed as she leaned toward me, brushing my lips with hers. Sweet little girl; she had no idea I had planned on leaving without her. Of course that idea was no more; there would be no avoiding her trip to the site if she was still set on going. I had known from the moment I met her how very headstrong she was…I had no idea how close I was to finding out just why she acted as she did.

"Did you sleep well?" I asked her. She smiled at me and flashed that brilliant white smile of hers. I could not help but notice how her skin glowed in the morning light. She had not bothered to re dress after our indulgences the night before. Her bare chest, her blond hair swirling around her; it was a sight most men could only dream of, a sight I had never even dared to dream of even after I had met Gemma.

"I am famished Erik," Her smile turned into a yawn, "Is there any chance of breakfast before we leave?"

"I believe there is a very good chance of that," I kissed her again. I knew I was still being a bit ridiculous but as I ate that morning I felt a bit like I was eating my last meal.

It was just as I suspected it would be. As Gemma and I road in on my horse everyone failed terribly at trying not to be shocked or interested. Still, no one said anything. In fact, after the initial surprise of the both of us arriving, I began to feel a bit relaxed, even relieved.

Gemma was her usual charming self; she carried on with Raoul Simon as though they had been childhood friends. It was amazing how she could remember every name and pin it to every face correctly. It was astounding how her ease affected me; she saw no reason to be awkward and I saw no reason to go against her reasoning!

They all adored Gemma, and as Gemma adored me, I was accepted by association.

"The project certainly is coming along," She pronounced as we walked about. She addressed no one in particular; not that is particularly mattered, everyone was listening to her.

As we toured the site we gathered a group of followers who were quite over excited to see Gemma and now happily stayed on her heels, throwing out any bit of information they thought she might be interested in regarding the work they were doing.

It did irritate me a bit; anything Gemma wanted to know I could answer for her without the help of men I had hired who probably barley grasped the concept any way! I supposed it was something I had to become used however; realizing that I was not the only one who loved Gemma Chevalier.

That day in August was perfect for construction. The heat of June and July had begun to burn off and the day was pleasant; not unbearably muggy. As such when the luncheon hour arrived there was no mad rush to get under the shade of the tents. Instead Gemma settled herself on a grassy patch in the sun; ready to sit and enjoy her meal. Of course everyone else, myself included, sat as close to her as they could.

I never expected it. After Gemma and I had arrived at the site and no one had greeted us with sharp reprimand about our sinful living situation I forgot my worries. I should have known better.

The tell tale sound of the crunch of gravel under wheels told us a carriage had arrived. Still, I did not pay much mind to it. Gemma was asking me to explain something and as always she received my full attention.

I had always prided myself on my extraordinary senses of hearing and sight. They had allowed me to live in the dangerous manner I had become accustomed to earlier in my life. In Persia my good sense and intuition had kept me alive for a good many years. Afterward in the opera they had enabled me to escape the searching hands and prying eyes of many a stage hand. Now however, after all those glorious years of service they were about to fail me.

"Bonheur, could I speak with you for a moment?" I recognized the voice of Count Chevalier behind me. I managed not to jump out of surprise, but only just. My heart felt cold. Perhaps the men at the site would not see anything wrong with the relationship between Gemma and myself, but I doubted her father would be as open minded.

I felt a bit numb as I got up and followed the count away from the group of dinning workers and Gemma. He wasn't going to kill me in front of witnesses.

When we were a reasonable distance away from everyone the count rounded on me. He had a copy of the infamous paper in his hand which he proceeded to throw at me.

"You! Of all the stupid things! Of all the stupid men she had picked in the past you are by far the worst!"

Though I had been expecting this his words cut me a little more than I had thought they would. I suppose in my heart I had wished he would see how much I loved his daughter; that I cared for her more than anyone else ever could. Since he had been kind in the past I had seen a slim chance he might not have me executed. I had been wrong to hope.

"I trusted you with her safety! I allowed her to spend her time with you! All along you were betraying me! You could ruin her reputation!" The count continued on his angry rant, "I asked you to keep an eye on her! I asked you to protect her!"

"Please do not believe that I used the position of her protector to take advantage of her," I said quickly and desperately. I wanted to distance my relationship with Gemma as much as I could from the one I had forged with Christine. At times I may have used Christine's trust to my unfair advantage; but Gemma had never trusted me in the way Christine had. Gemma was not nearly as naive.

"Be quiet Bonheur!" He snapped, "You must end all this immediately. You will leave this site today and never return. You will never see my daughter again! She has enough problems picking men and she doesn't need you as a distraction! Now that her sister is getting married she is next in line! Gemma must find a suitable man,"

"I am not a suitable man?" I knew I was red with fury. Who did this man think he was? He had given me this job! He had brought his daughter right to me! What on earth did he expect? And now he was letting me go! Forbidding me to see Gemma ever again! My heart felt ready to break. Everything I loved in my life was going to be taken away.

"You are a maimed architect with no name and no money," The count said coldly, "No; you are not even in the realm of suitable for my daughter,"

A maimed architect; yes that was me. No matter how kind someone was to me on the surface no one ever forgot or overlooked my appearance. I felt a bit shattered inside; as though my heart had sunk to the ground and, being so very fragile, broke apart. I was just what he said; a maimed architect.

"Oh I beg to disagree with you father," We both were caught off guard as Gemma's voice cut through our ears. She was very good at sneaking up unannounced. Her voice had gone icy; just as it had in that doctor's office months ago. Yet now it was even cooler than I remembered.

I stared at her. Her arms were crossed on her chest and her eyes sparkled with a kind of delighted malice. Her smile was small; just a slight amused curve of her lips. I had seen that look before but never on any human thing. That was what a tiger looked like just before it devoured a victim.

"Gemma," I looked at the count; he seemed almost frightened! "I do not know what you heard…"

"I did not need to hear a thing," She laughed mirthlessly, "You are so mind numbingly predictable I know exactly what you have said…my God how did I ever become so clever with a father like you?"

The count glared at her, "Now see here mademoiselle—"

"Stop right there father," She held up a hand, "Erik will not be fired from this job, nor will he quit seeing me,"

"Oh you think it is going to be that easy do you!" The count yelled angrily, "You may have everyone else under your thumb but I certainly am not! I am your father and what I say shall pass!"

Gemma did not rise to her father's bait, "I am no fool; I never thought this was going to be easy. You are the one who came down here with nothing but a paper and a lot of hot air spouting edicts! It would seem that you are the one who believes this shall be easy,"

Gemma's voice lowered to a frigid whisper, "Father, before you say another word on the subject, think very carefully about all those people that I have 'under my thumb' and about just how hard you are willing to fight me…and about just how much you are willing to lose,"

As she spoke these words I could not help but be mesmerized by the sparkle of cool amusement she was drawing from this whole thing. She delighted in threatening her father this way. Or perhaps she was excited to defend me? I could only hope…

The count shook his head, "One day Gemma you will regret all of this very much,"

"We shall see," Was all she would say.

"I can not stand for this," I heard him grumble as he walked away.

"Do not worry Erik," Gemma said to me as she watched him go. Her voice had become soft and sweet again, "He will not bother you again; I shall see to that,"

I worried about what she might mean; I had forgotten this side of Gemma Chevalier. She could be quite cruel when she wanted. I resented the count for his harsh words yet still I knew he had a point. I was not an outstandingly fine match for Gemma; I had no family nor any grand fortune not to mention I was more than a few years her senior.

Yet it did not seem to matter what the count thought, or what I thought for that matter; this was about what Gemma wanted.

"What did he say to you Erik?" Gemma's voice interrupted my thoughts. She was still staring at her father as he walked away. Though her voice was normal again her gaze was still quite cool.

"What was to be expected," I told her, "He does not see me as a very good match for you, then he fired me,"

"Oh I know that," Gemma said softly, "What did he say that put that heartbroken look into your eyes?" Her gaze finally lifted from her father's back and landed on me.

"Oh…nothing, nothing of importance,"

"Erik," She stepped toward me. Her arms uncrossed and fell around my shoulders.

"It was nothing too devastating," I lied, "He just called me…a 'maimed architect' were his exact words,"

"Oh Erik," Gemma sighed. She embraced me tightly; her lips kissed mine before she rested her head on my shoulder, "You will not let that upset you will you? He is just a stupid man who went for a cheap insult. You mustn't let it bother you,"

"He is right though,"

Gemma pulled away from me, "Don't you ever say that! You are much _much_ more than that my darling! You are a man of infinite talents and intelligence, not to mention a fierce wit! Simple men like my father will always be jealous of you and they will try to cut you down using the most barbaric means. You must never let them Erik,"

"I do not think your father is simple Gemma,"

"No…but then you do not know him as well as I do," She smiled at me, "He is a very educated man, and one who has the sense to understand that money and family fortunes will run out, but he has no creativity and he lacks…vision,"

"Vision?"

"He is dull Erik; dull and bull headed. If he cannot see what kind of a man you really are than I must conclude that he lacks vision,"

"You do not think that he has a point?"

"What do you mean?"

"I am not the best man for you,"

Gemma's eyes hardened, "Oh? And when did you decide who the best man for me was?"

"Gemma I only meant—"

"Are you really that afraid of my father that you would run from me?"

"No! It isn't that! It's…."

"Do you love me Erik?" She asked bluntly.

"Yes," I sighed. I knew her point before she made it; it did not matter how ill suited we were; I loved her so I would not leave her. Then suddenly lightning struck me.

"Gemma," I asked her, "Tell me you love me. You never have before,"

She opened her mouth but what she planned to say I would never know. As fate would have it, that very moment was the exact one that two of my men chose to allow their emotions to burst free. My two masons (I had told the Count that I did not even need one but he had insisted on my hiring two) Carlo Zeno and Otto Colonna had been at each others throats since the moment they had set food on the site. In their latest dispute Zeno had decided to punctuate his last point with a swift right hook.

In the next few moments all energy was put forth to contain the fight and prevent them from causing any real damage.

By the time I got back to Gemma the moment had passed; she would not tell me now if she loved me. I would have to wait.

Even after the incident with her father Gemma continued to stay at my house. Though she did not come down to the site with me again I was disregarding the count's request that I be fired from the project.

I did not hear anything from the Count Chevalier for a few weeks and I believed the entire episode would blow over.

However one day I was at the site overseeing more work on the foundations when I received a note from the count himself. He requested my presence in his household after the work day had ended.

With much apprehension I road to the count's mansion; what threat did he have for me this time? What harsh words would he throw in my direction now? Worse still, what if he had invented a way to separate me from his daughter permanently?

The very same butler who have first ushered me into the Chevalier home greeted me now with the same kind of distaste. The house was quiet and my every move seemed amplified; my steps across the wooden floor echoed under the high ceilings and maybe the thumb of my shoes traveled even farther so that all of Deauville knew I was walking to the Chevalier parlor.

I was very nervous. I had brazenly disobeyed the count's wishes and I feared it would hold ill for me. As I approached the parlor I realized that it was not even keeping my post as architect that concerned me. It was the idea that in a few moments Chevalier would tell me that he was moving the family far out of my reach and that I would lose Gemma forever.

As I expected, the count and his wife were waiting for me. The Countess Chevalier was sitting calmly on the sofa sipping tea while the Count stood on the far side of the room, leaning against a buffet.

The count looked as anxious as I felt. He was twisting a piece of paper in his hands and his face looked quite white. No, I thought as I looked at him again, he was not anxious. He was distraught and angry…perfect.

"Bonheur," He said shortly as I entered, "You are here today to listen to an apology. It was childish of my to insult you based on your…appearance. You are not fired from the project, not that you listened to that request anyway, and you may continue to see my daughter, not that you stopped."

After that little speech the Count stood and set the piece of paper down on the buffet. He was red with suppressed anger now and I could almost see him shaking.

"There," He muttered, "That should please her," With that he left the room in a huff.

I just stood there, blinking like a village idiot. I had been expecting a sharp reprimand and I had been given an apology. I looked to the Countess for some kind of explanation.

She laughed at my blank expression.

"You do not understand what has happened do you?" She asked, and the little bemused smile that played on her lips reminded me eerily of Gemma. I shook my head no.

"Then you do not know my daughter as well as you think! Go over there to the buffet. Look at that slip my husband was so charmingly twisting in his hands,"

I did as she asked. The paper was a letter from a man in Africa. He was turning down the Count's offer to finance a shipment of diamonds.

"What does this mean?" I had no idea what this had to do with myself and Gemma.

"Do you know how much money my husband makes each year on these shipping contracts? We would have been destitute by now if he hadn't started these business ventures when Gisele was borne. He has been financing for that particular man in Africa for nearly twenty years!"

"And…" The pieces slowly fell into place. I had no idea that the Count needed financial supplementation with contracts like this one. I had assumed that his concern for changing with society was limited to cultural events, not capitalism.

"Gemma just so happens to know of others who can ship for less than my husband; thanks to her he has lost one of his oldest and most profitable contracts,"

"My God…but how did she do it? How did she convince a man in Africa to change his loyalties in France?"

"As you may have noticed she is incredibly persuasive and very clever. She also knows _everybody_. I believe it was rather simple; just two letters, one to the man in Marseilles offering him an amazing opportunity and one to Africa offering a lower fare. I suspect she threw herself in for a share of the profits,"

"She did all of that because of me?"

"Yes; well…not you exactly. You are part of her little world now and she would not stand for her father insulting you. You see, it weakens her position if the people in her circle can be threatened without retribution,"

"Her position?" I was confused, "Her position as what?"

"Why, her place atop the social structure of Europe! Look at it this way; she is defending her empire Erik. You are her latest acquisition, her newest colony. She will not let any neighboring king take away her prize. She would take away all of her father's business until he relented,"

I sat down heavily on a chair across from the Countess. Gemma Chevalier was not a sweet, innocent little girl; that I had known from the beginning. Yet her true self when even deeper; behind this veneer of flashy parties and expensive clothing lay the complex truth of the French upper classes.

Gemma was not just a pretty figure; she had a power that she was beginning to exert for my benefit. Now I had the Count Chevalier as an enemy I was sure. And Gemma…how far would she go 'defending her new prize' as the Countess put it?

Moreover; was that all I meant to her? Had she taken up with me because she thought it would be interesting to see who she would have to destroy to keep me by her side?

Was my life just a part of her game? And what would happen if she ever decided she no longer wanted me? I knew she could crush me easily. And what if, threw all of her contacts, she found out something regarding a masked man in an opera house…just how dangerous would this relationship prove?

That night as I road home the sun set was particularly striking. The brim of the world visible beyond the vast ocean looked cloaked in daylight still even as the white moon was already in a darkening sky. Twilight; that strange hour in which day and night lived together.

There was a time that I had thought of Gemma and I as day and night; perhaps we were. She was young, beautiful, loved by all, and I was aging, scared, and barely loved by even myself. Yet I had thought that we could live together under one sky.

Now however I was not so sure. Gemma was willing to do anything; to go to any lengths to keep things the way she liked them. What had her father said? Everyone she had under her thumb…

Gemma used and manipulated everyone who loved her to get her way. Had I not done the same thing throughout my life?

More and more the line between my night and her day was blurring together into one endless dark atmosphere. I feared this oncoming cloud; I had fought to remove myself from that world of cunning threats and calculating ways. Now I was being thrust into it again and on a much grander scale. Gemma was no petty specter pressing a few old men for 20,000 franks. Perhaps my exploits in Persia would stand up to her, but that was many years ago…

If with two letters she could significantly reduce the income of her father, and thus the wealth of her family, what could she do if she should become seriously angry…or worse, seriously bored?

As I approached my home I decided that my main concern should be what all this meant for me. It was too bad for Count Chevalier and the rest that Gemma used and while I could sympathize it was not as though any one of them had ever showed me any particularly grand love.

Would Gemma use me as she did the rest…that was what I needed answered.

She was standing in the living room. Her back was to the door and she was staring out at the sea. The sun had sunk lower now and Gemma was only a silhouette against the large window.

"Did you speak with him?" She asked me without turning. I was surprised she had even heard me coming; I had been trying to be quiet.

"Yes," I could only assume she meant her father.

"Did he apologize?"

"He did,"

"Did it seem heartfelt?"

I considered for a moment. If I said no, there was a chance that she would not be satisfied and continue to take away her father's business. If I said yes she would stop with this one contract…and the man that had called me maimed and unfit would get away without further punishment.

"Yes it did,"

Gemma laughed shortly and mirthlessly as she turned to face me, "Liar! It did not…oh well, it is no matter. I believe he has learned his lesson,"

She came toward me and made to put her arms around me. Without thinking I stopped her, catching her hands in mine. At that moment I felt a strange chill just from touching her.

"Whatever is wrong Erik? Why are you looking at me so coldly?"

"Why did you do it?"

"Do what?"

"To your father!" I cried, shaking her hands, "Why did you do it?"

"He insulted you! He hurt you…and he is not allowed to tell me what I am to do with my life; he is not nearly clever enough for that,"

"Indeed," I let go of her hands and walked around her, still thinking.

"What has gotten into you Erik?"

I stared her in the eye, "Was it for me that you punished your father or was it for you?"

I saw a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes, "Both,"

"Really?" I was half yelling at her in a very cold tone, "Or am I simply a new piece in this little game you are playing with everyone's lives?"

"What does it matter?"

"What does it matter!" I exploded, "For Christ's sake Gemma! Do you know you confused you make me?"

"Confuse? What on earth—"

"I do not know what you want with me! And I do not want you to use me as you do everyone else!"

She said nothing and I continued, "I have known people like you Gemma; I was…hell maybe I still am just like you! Nothing good comes of living this way!"

"Erik, I am going to stop you before you launch into a formal harangue on ethics and blackmail," Gemma suddenly smiled at me. Her lips curved not in a grand mirth filled smile but rather a smug smirk. Something about the way she looked at me made me wonder if she knew…no, she could not possibly know!

"Darling I know statesmen, lawyers, merchants and everyone else of importance in between! Why would I ever need to use you? Except of course for…intimate pleasures,"

Her point struck me like a sack of mortar. I almost laughed; Gemma had so many people at her disposal indeed what did she need me for?

"I am not a pawn in your little plot to take over…?"

"Take over what?" Gemma laughed, "The world? Invade Poland? I am not Napoleon Erik!"

"Gemma you hurt your own family quite badly just because your father wanted you to stop seeing me,"

"Just because? Erik do you want to be separated from me? And what was I supposed to do? As a woman my legal independence from my father is limited at best; what other choice did I have? If I am going to be taken seriously than I have to take serious action!"

"I suppose," She was right; if she had no leverage than she would have had no choice but to comply with her father's wishes and that would have separated us…not to mention that I would have been out of a job.

"Gemma I still…I am waiting for you to reveal your full plan to me,"

"I only have one plan for you," Gemma came close to me and this time I let her put her arms around me, "And it doesn't involve anything I think you would find objectionable or manipulative,"

"Oh really? You have my attention,"

Gemma kissed me swiftly, "Well, firstly we have to sneak up to your room,"

"Sneak?"

"Yes,"

"Why do we need to sneak?"

"Because I just heard the front door open and that means Nadir is home and he tends to get in the way,"

"Well then we must hurry,"

I took her by the hand. My feelings of trepidation regarding our relationship were hard to remember when she was looking at me with a kind of longing in her eyes. We raced up the stairs and into my room. I was very sure that Nadir heard us but if he didn't see us than he couldn't really prove we were home. We now had the luxury of simply ignoring him.

Once again we found ourselves locked in my room, read to move to the next level. I pulled at a pin in Gemma's hair, setting free a waterfall of soft, golden locks. She smiled at me and there was no trace of the hard, icy look she had adopted lately. She looked…radiant.

I cupped her face in one hand, tilting her lips up to meet mine. Our kiss was slow at first; I revealed in the feel of her lips and the touch of her body against mine.

Gemma's arms came around my neck, allowing me to reach the ties on the back of her dress. This time the garment came off more easily. We hardly broke our kiss as the dress fell in a pool of fabric onto the floor.

I put my arms around her waist, drawing her down on top of me on the bed. I was lost in the pleasure of that moment; Gemma's light frame laying on top of me, her hair brushing against my face and shoulders…her lips making a feathery track to my neck.

For a few moments I fumbled with her corset ties and then the thing was off. I believed that it was the adrenalin pumping through my body which allowed me to be so proficient in removing it. My desire to hold her in my arms without any barrier between us was so strong that I believed I could have done anything to gain what I wanted.

My hands trailed down past her slim waist and onto her smooth legs. I began to push up her slip…

"Erik wait,"

I thought it would really kill me this time when she said those words. My need for her was so strong I thought I would go mad!

"Erik before we…well…I love you Erik,"

I froze

"I just thought you should know," She whispered before she kissed me again.

There were no words left for either of us to say. Hearing her say I love you to me made me feel like I was soaring high in the sky. I loved her…and she was in love with me.

It was late in the night when Gemma fell asleep beside me. Our clothes were thrown about the room in various piles; my shirt and pants were on either side of the bed, Gemma's chemise and slip were lying over the bedposts.

This time there had been no stopping; she and I had made love. I had been with Christine in that way once…just one short cupping before she left me forever. It had meant nothing…and it had not been the wonderful experience I had always imagined.

Gemma though…to be joined with her in that most intimate of ways…to feel her that way; watch her eyes at moments of highest gratification was a more truly mind altering experience than I could have hoped for. She brought me the greatest pleasure of my life while we were joined as one. Then just after, when her hot body collapsed on top of mine, I took her into my arms and felt her bare shoulders and slim waist trembling.

I had been surprised after, when I was gazing at Gemma next to me, to see a bit of red on her thigh. I was sure I had hurt her and had apologized profusely like an idiot. Gemma had blushed sweetly, explaining that it was to be expected…it was her first time after all.

It had struck me then that I had taken her virginity. She could have chosen any man, she could have married, but she chose to love me and give me her innocence.

She lay asleep now, curled next to me. I had the strange urge to protect her and keep her safe, even though she was the one who was protecting me. It was hard though, to imagine her as a cutthroat, ambitious woman. Now she seemed quite small and young…but then, she always looked that why when she was sleeping.

My life had lasted much longer than I had ever thought it would. I had believed in Persia I could die of poison, under the opera morphine and heartbreak had almost taken me. The truth was that when I looked over the course of my life there were no moments that I could remember actually being happy.

Even when I had met Gisele and then Gemma I would not have described my mood as happy. Being in love was never a glad thing; it was all consuming and maddening…I spent most of the time agonizing over rejection and that moment when the world would be pulled out from under me.

Yet in this moment; this I knew was happiness. This feeling of lying next to a woman who had confessed her love for me, who was actually willing to belong to me as I belonged to her…this surly must be joy.

And when I thought back on all of those awful days and minutes I realized that those people I had dismissed as ridiculous who had told me that one moment of happiness was worth all of it, were actually right.

She cooed a little in her sleep as she drew closer to me. It did not even matter that my arm had gone numb from her head resting on it; I was happy.

I had slept in the same bed with Gemma many nights but that night was different. I felt closer to her; we had connected on a deeper level. When I wrapped my arms around her that night, it seemed as though I was holding her closer.

Morning called me from a very deep sleep indeed. I did not open my eyes at first; I took a deep breath and inhaled the scent of Gemma's hair and felt the happy weight of her in my arms.

However when I did throw the darkness away from my sight, I realized it was not morning at all.

"Good morning darling," Gemma was awake already.

"What time is it?"

"Noon I think,"

"What! Why didn't you wake me? They will be expecting me down at the site…" I made to get out of the bed.

"You just looked so peaceful sleeping," Gemma's arms swiftly wrapped around my neck, stopping me in my tracks, "Besides, they do not need you down there every day! You are already late…just take one day off with me,"

"I want to darling…but…"

"But what? Please Erik…don't leave me alone, not today,"

I knew I could not deny her request; not when she looked almost pleadingly at me. It occurred to me then that Gemma was perhaps more affected by the night before than I had thought. Besides…it was not as though her father could fire me.

Giving in to what my body and heart desired, I settled back onto the sheets. I took Gemma into my arms again and kissed her. I felt her hand against my cheek and it was only then that I realized that my mask had been removed. There seemed little point in insisting on wearing it when I was alone with Gemma; for whatever reason she did not mind the twisted scared flesh and now that I knew her better, I knew there would be no changing what she wanted.

"Did you sleep well?" I asked her, settling down next to her.

"Yes,"

"Are you sure?" Her voice had sounded a bit uncertain.

"Yes, I feel fine," she kissed me and I let me hand travel up and down her still bear body.

"Wait…not that fine," Gemma murmured.

I stopped immediately, "Gemma darling tell me what is wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong Erik," She smiled at me, "I just feel a little…sore. Nothing to worry about…it is perfectly natural…I have heard,"

I took no delight in knowing that something I had done had caused her any pain no matter how small. Yet still, some part of me was, not pleased, but in some way elated. I was real to her. She really felt me and my life affected hers. We were connected to each other. I had never had that with any other person.

I lay on my back, Gemma fit perfectly in the nook between my arm and chest. Her hand tracked little lines up and down my chest. I could have stayed there forever, holding her body against mine.

"Gemma…what you told me last night just before we…did you mean it?"

"What?"

I sighed, "Do you really love me Gemma?"

She swallowed and waited a moment before she looked right at me, "Yes; I am sorry I did not say anything before. It is not an easy thing…I have never actually loved a man before,"

My heart was pounding quite fast as she spoke these words. As much as I had desperately wanted to hear them I never thought I actually would. And there was more…

"Strange…I never thought I would actually have to say it. No one else has ever bothered to ask…out of all the men I have ever been linked to you are the only one who asked…which I suppose is a good thing because love is the one thing I would not lie about,"

"Everything else is fair game?"

"Yes; but Erik I have to admit I never suspected I would end up here!"

"You mean you weren't immediately taken by my wit and charm?"

"You were a nasty old grump when I met you,"

"I still am Gemma,"

"I know but now you are my nasty old grump and it is quite endearing…but even when I started to get closer to you I never thought…that I would love you. Love always seemed so silly to me…I never understood any of it…I guess I sound rather ridiculous now don't I?"

Her words were spoken in a very matter of fact tone; she sounded honest at least.

She lay her head down on my chest.

"No not at all," I told her. I had always felt as though Gemma was a secret I could never unlock. Hearing anything that could help was a great comfort.

"And you," Gemma began almost hesitantly, "You…love me to don't you?"

"Of course! I told you that didn't I?"

"Well…it is not something one tires of hearing," She laughed, "So you and I are in love then?"

"I am afraid so,"

"Well then…this is quite serious! You shall have to tell me your birth date so I can buy you something…and Christmas…mine is November third…and what shall our anniversary be? When we first met or our first kiss or should it be today?"

"Whatever you decide I will agree to,"

"My my how agreeable you are! Please do not continue; I think I will find it dreadfully boring. I suppose we will make our courtship known to everyone officially at the End of Summer Ball?"

I had almost forgotten the ball, "I suppose…what do you mean? Make official?"

"Announce to all that neither of us are available to anyone but each other,"

Taking the risk that she would find me too agreeable, I agreed to this. Claiming Gemma's heart in front of everyone seemed like a fine thing to do. Of course, in the back of my head a thousand thoughts beseeched me not to go out into the public eye. If my secret anxiety was merited or not remained to be seen…

Gemma had been practicing at odd hours during the day and night. She had gotten frighteningly good and at one lesson, I could not resist asking her one ill-advised question.

"Gemma…can you sing?"

"Well yes…my father hired a choral instructor when we were girls,"

"Do you remember any of it?"

"I think so…why?"

"I would like to hear you sing,"

"Yes I gathered that; but why?"

"I enjoy everything musical and I would like to see if I can improve your voice as I have your talent at the piano,"

She smiled at me and I was surprised to see a bit of suspicion in her gaze. I wondered why she would think it strange I would want to hear her voice. Of course it was a bit of a wild idea; Christine had been my first and only music student and that had certainly ended badly. Perhaps it was not wise to try it all over again but in all honesty Gemma was nothing like Christine and I doubted it would lead to similar happenings.

Gemma, still regarding me with a raised eyebrow, sang a simple scale. It was not perfect, not by any means. Yet I could not deny she had potential. I could mold her into a fantastic singer…but that was all I could ever turn her in to. I may have been able to teach Gemma, but I knew that no matter what I did with her the chances of her turning into another Christine were nonexistent. Gemma would always be what she was and no one could ever really change her. It was a relief to know that she could not be Christine…but what Gemma was…well it was not always good.

After a singing lesson, in which Gemma's voice had begun to show considerable improvement, she when upstairs to change for dinner (a completely unnecessary ritual in my home but none the less she would not be dissuade) when I heard Nadir barge in the front door.

I was seeing less and less of Nadir. I had Gemma and he had Victoria. He was often gallivanting about with her and by the time he returned at night Gemma and I were usually already in the bedroom.

"Well, look who it is! I did not expect to see you," I said in what I thought was a notably good natured voice.

"Why not? I am staying here,"

"Here or with Mademoiselle Ward?"

"Oh and where is Mademoiselle Chevalier? Has she ran off and left you yet?"

"What in hell are you so cross about?" I demanded angrily.

Nadir shook his head and sighed, "I apologize friend…it's…Monsieur Ward…did you know I am not a desirable candidate for marriage?"

"Well yes…but I would have hoped you did a better job hiding that from Monsieur Ward than from me,"

"Hilarious Erik; you can be so droll," He grumbled as he sat down at the dinner table, not bothering to offer any help in making the meal.

"Nadir Count Chevalier feels the same way about me…you just have to—"

"Have to what? Victoria is a sweet girl; she is not going to go against her father like that malicious girl of yours,"

"Language," Nadir's head snapped up as Gemma came into the room, clearly having heard everything.

"I am sorry Gemma," He sighed, "I just thought I could really be happy with this woman and now…I can't have her!"

"What do you mean can't have her?" Gemma asked in a matter of fact tone. She came over to me to offer her assistance, "It sounds as though the only problem is her father,"

"He is a considerable problem,"

"What objection does he have against you?"

"I am not as _socially_ _prominent_ as he would like the husband of his daughter to be. Apparently retired police inspectors are not very glamorous grooms," Nadir growled, sounded as though he was quoting Monsieur Ward himself.

Gemma laughed, "I am happy to see that both of you can amuse yourselves with my plight," Nadir grumped.

"Peace dear friend! I am only laughing because your problem is so simply fixed!" Gemma smiled at him.

"Please enlighten me," Nadir said skeptically.

"As you know the end of summer ball is approaching and Monsieur Ward isn't it? Yes well he and his family will receive a personal invitation from me to that party…where you will also be,"

"How does that help me? And how am I going to be there? I am not invited!"

Gemma rolled her eyes as she poured herself a glass of wine, "Try to follow my reasoning Nadir; I will invite you. Then I will introduce you to them as though we are close friends…remember dear, when it comes to 'social prominence' there is no one higher than _me_; cheers," She raised her glass and took a sip and I recognized her sly cunning smile; the one she wore when she had concocted a master plan.

Nadir's eyes went wide, "You would do that for me?"

"But of course! You are my lover's best friend after all," Gemma winked at me and I smiled. She then moved off to sit at the dinning room table as well; clearly, I would be left to my own devices as far as dinner went.

It was just days before the party. I had gone down to the site while Gemma had remained at home practicing. I was quite lost in thought about my latest predicament regarding the house when I was blind-sided.

"Where is she?" I heard the voice of Gisele come up behind me. I had never heard her sound so scathing, so angry! "Where is that malicious rotten sister of mine?"

"Gisele! Well this is unexpected," I floundered in my surprise.

"I am sorry Erik but there is no time for pleasantries; where is Gemma? I must speak with her immediately!" Gisele had all the look and tone of a normally composed woman who had been pushed too far.

"She…she is at my home," I stammered, "I can…take you there if you like,"

"Yes; bring me there this instant!"

I had no other choice but to leave my work at the site for another time and bring Gisele to my house. We road there in silence but I knew Gisele was absolutely fuming. I wondered what Gemma had done to her.

The moment we reached my house Gisele jumped off of her horse and practically ran inside. I followed with interest and apprehension.

I heard Gemma playing the piano the moment I entered but it abruptly stopped and I assumed she had noticed her sister.

I approached the door of the music room…

"You horrid imbecile!" Gisele screeched at her sister. I saw her raise her hand to slap Gemma's perfect face but Gemma caught her wrist easily.

"Yes I am quite fond of you as well," Gemma smiled nonchalantly at her sister.

"Be quiet! Do you know what you have done!" Gisele looked close to tears.

"Tell me; I enjoy hearing about my own exploits,"

"Ah! You wicked fiend! You do not even care!"

"Care about what?"

"My marriage! Fernand won't marry me now that you have stopped all of father's shipping from Africa!"

Gemma merely laughed at this devastating announcement, "Yes, I wondered if he would,"

"You knew! You knew that what you were doing would end my marriage!" Gisele was crying now and shaking with rage.

"I suspected,"

"Oh you foul, misrable, stupid…!"

"Enough complements Gisele,"

"I could just murder you!"

"Gisele," Gemma was still smiled despite her sister's anger, "Did you ever think that _maybe_ if all Deniau wants to marry you for is to firm up trade agreements…you should not marry him?"

"What are you saying?" Gisele looked awful; a few more minutes of this torture and I believe she would faint.

"He doesn't love you Gisele,"

Gisele stammered a few words that were more like sobs before her knees buckled and she fell to the ground.

"Well…that was uncomfortable," Gemma said as I walked toward her sister.

I crossed the floor to Gisele and picked her up; laying her out on the sofa.

"What shall we do now that you have stolen your sisters happiness and consciousness?" I asked Gemma in a disapproving tone.

"Retrieve a pitcher of water; that usually works just fine,"

"I will not throw water on your sister…or let you for that matter,"

"I meant the water to be for Deniau,"

However no other method of resuscitation was needed; Gisele came around on her own. She blinked dizzily; truly, I think she was surprised to see me standing over her. Yet she only looked at me for a moment before her sad eyes turned to her sister.

"You have always been a wretched person and a cruel sister; but what have I ever done to you to deserve this kind of punishment?"

"Punishment?" Gemma laughed, "I rather think that I have done you a service! The man does not love you Gisele! And though I may be cold and never deliberately seek your company I think enough of you to believe that you deserve a husband who loves you,"

I stared at Gemma in wonder but Gisele only shook her head, "What do you know of love?"

Gemma shifted and folded her arms, throwing a nearly undetectable glance at me, "I am learning more; and it does not take any great mind to see that this man only wants to wed you for monetary reasons,"

Gisele got to her feet, unwilling to look up at her sister any longer, "The only person you have ever loved is yourself; you have ruined everything do you know that? You've humiliated me and made Father look like a fool,"

"Yes but on the up side I have made a pretty profit for myself," I knew Gemma just could not resist, "And that is a damn lie; that thing you said about me only loving myself. But you are angry; I know deep down you do not feel that way," She was teasing her sister now.

Gisele laughed but it held none of her normal sweetness; she sounded hysterical, "HIM!" Gisele pointed at me now, her finger shaking, "Gemma I appreciate Erik's genius as much as anyone and I believe he is a nice man, which is why I warned him against you! But you cannot honestly tell me that of all the men in the world you would choose to love _him_!"

She said the word 'him' as one does who was referring to a dog; tolerated, cared for…but a dog none the less. It cut me deeply to learn that Gisele saw me as nothing more than a nice man, because when she said nice man, she meant that I was not worthy of the love of a great woman.

My eyes fell to the floor.

"I regret what I have done for you now Gisele," Gemma said coldly, "You do deserve a man who loves only the connections you bring him. You are enough of an idiot to love him. Still, for your cruel words, I will not set any of this back the way you wish. Now I make you this promise; I will be dead in my grave before I see you happy. Watch the whispers behind your back; they will make darker the reason why Deniau left you,"

Gemma's voice was so changed I had to look at her. She stood rigid; a stone angel. Her eyes were as dark, starless night; devoid of any humanity and terrifying in there vast unfathomable depth. They left the viewer cold and without hope of reaching the heavens above. If Gemma had her way, Gisele would be lost to this world of darkness.

She did not say a word but she half ran from my home. I sat heavily on the sofa.

"I apologize for her Erik," Gemma spoke to me kindly now. With the subject of her hate departed she was no longer so stoic. "She should not have spoken to you that way; she does not see what I see in you,"

Gemma knelt down before me, taking my hands in hers.

"And what do you see?" I looked up at her. I knew my eyes had gone quite wide; my hands shook in hers. What sort of woman had drawn me to her? My beautiful angel…what daemon are you!

Yet with her words she could redeem herself to me. With her answer she could convince me that she was indeed a mortal being with true feelings for me. She could prove that she was no fiend upon this earth and that her intentions toward her sister were not so sinister.

"Erik…my poor darling is it possible that even you do not see? All these people I have met all those who I know; none are like you! Wait I am not yet finished!" She saw that I meant to interrupt her and stopped me.

She looked up at me with bring eyes like clouds before a rain; ready to burst with…something!

"Erik, you have a talent, a spirit inside of you that is capable of anything! Look at the things you have done! The paintings in the ball room, the house, my skill at the piano and now at song! You have the power to create things that people react to; that change them, even if it is only for a moment! I only wish to be near that; be near you! And also to…shield you…from those who would…snuff the light of your soul,"

I pulled her to me then. No matter how strong her spirit was her body would always remain light and easily moved. I kissed her deeply and she seemed happy to surrender herself into my arms.

"Do not punish you sister, not for me," I said to her when we drew apart, "And I hope you will grant me this; fix her current position,"

"Of course," Gemma acquiesced without argument, "At your request I would do anything,"

She kissed me again and I began to wonder…anything…

A week following the most unsettling incident with Gisele I was reading the paper just before lunch at the site when a certain article caught my eye.

It was a report detailing the recent arrest and fine of several men involved with imports from Africa. Apparently the men had been illegally overloading the ships and unloading cargo without paying the proper tax. The crew was currently being held in jail while the financier of the voyage was under investigation until his knowledge of the scheme could be discerned. I immediately recognized the names of these men as the very ones involved with Count Chevalier's and Gisele's troubles.

Gemma had taken to coming down to the site just after noon again and the moment I saw her arrive I showed her the article.

"Oh," She said, and her voice betrayed not a hint of surprise, "So it has happened at last has it?"

"You knew this was coming to pass?" I demanded.

"Well I did write the letter to the proper authorities telling them of this illegal endeavor; they would have to be quite daft if they did not make an arrest,"

"What!" I was not sure if I should be glad or even further disturbed at this news.

Gemma simply smiled at me, "You see Erik, I was informed ages ago about the unsavory nature of my father's business partners. I have a very extensive network of connections you see," Her eyes twinkled with untold mischief as she spoke, "And one particular informant told me that the authorities were coming down quite hard of violators of trading laws and that it was only a matter of time before my father was caught in the middle of a scandal,"

I stared dumb founded as Gemma continued to explain.

"I wrote that letter to Africa ages ago! I thought someone would notice that not even I could get a letter to Africa in a matter of weeks! Still I did not tell my father; I decided to keep it as the ace in my hand. Once problems began to arise with you I was glad I did,"

"And Gisele's marriage?"

"Well Deniau will have to marry her now; my father just emerged as the most trusted trading financier in France…well, maybe not most trusted but at least clever enough to avoid scandal. Deniau will need to remake those alliances he was so quick to break. Of course, after he humiliated Gisele I would think my father would not allow the union without making Deniau pay some kind of tribute…he will more than make up for any money he might have lost before,"

"And you had all of this planned from the first?"

Gemma nodded.

"But…when they investigate all of this won't you be implicated as you were the one who wrote to the man in Africa? Won't it seem like you planned it?"

"For Christ's sake! Why on earth didn't you tell me!"

She laughed, "Next time darling; I'll tell you next time,"

I was happy to hear that she had not actually plotted to ruin her family but in fact had been trying to help them. Still, Gemma had mentioned a next time and that did scare me.

The grand ball I have been preparing Gemma for was now only days away. Though I was the one who had to teach her the art of the piano she to had some things in mind to ready me for the event.

My measurements had been taken by a shop in town and new dress garments were being made for me. After Gemma had gone through my wardrobe she had announced that nothing I currently owned would do. However this did not bother me overmuch; I had always enjoyed having the finest of garments. It was the one aspect of my appearance that I could make sure was beyond reproach. If Gemma told me that my garments were not of the correct style I would not argue; she knew better than I in this matter.

Yet some of her other preparations vexed me a bit more. She went through all of the families that would be attending and related their history; both the scandals and the mundane. I told her on more than one occasion that I could not possibly remember all of the facts she told me; one because they were so numerous, and two because they were so ridiculous. Still she insisted and I unwillingly retained a general knowledge of the top families in Deauville.

Still as the days slid away which separated me from the ball a growing knot in my stomach began to grow. At first it had been easy to dismiss but now I found myself completely consumed by worry and nerves. Even with Gemma at my side I would still be subject to so many whispers; they would all be wondering who on earth I was…and why I wore that mask!

Though I knew one look from Gemma Chevalier would silence any sort of malicious talk of me they would still be thinking what they did not say. Visible or not they would all judge me.

What if I made a fool of myself? What if I could not remember the host's name or the steps to a certain dance? I had developed a reoccurring dream that I was in the middle of a grand ball room when for no particular reason save the cruelty of fate my mask slipped to the ground exposing my face.

Nadir was not in a state much better. He too was eaten away by nerves. I understood that he was concerned with giving Monsieur Ward, but I kept reminding his that at least he had a face!

Together our grumpy edgy moods would have been no doubt most annoying to most people but Gemma was quite amused by it. When one of us would state a concern she merely laughed and told us we were being foolish.

At last the day we had all been anticipating arrived. It amazed me that something once so far off was now upon us. The days had already begun to show that summer was waning; though the days were still warm and bright the evenings were becoming cool.

It was on a particularly cool evening that I found myself buttoning a new, crisp white shirt and tucking it into a pair of supremely tailored black pants. This outfit Gemma had made me purchase suited me quite well…no pun intended.

I had believed that out of all the formal ware I owned something would have done for me to wear to this ball but now that I had on these new clothes I saw Gemma's point. Old clothes; not only were they, as Gemma put it 'out of fashion' but also they no longer seemed to fit so well. I turned sideways in front of the mirror; I was not as thin as I used to be.

The door opened into my bedroom.

"Erik! Just how is this damn thing supposed to work!"

Nadir had been quite ridiculous for the past few days; especially today. My nervousness made me reserved and somber while his had quite the opposite affect. He had been jumpy and loud since the morning.

Now he was having a difficult time with a pair of cufflinks.

"I had tried these things on every which way and they simply do not work! I think they are broken," He was quite panicked.

"Nadir you are a very dear friend to me you know this, but if you do not calm down this moment I am going to have to lock you away!" I took the cuff links from him and put them on his shirt myself.

Nadir looked at his wrists and then up at me, "Erik I do not know why I thought I could do this! I cannot _mingle_ with these people…I do not fit with them,"

I laughed mirthlessly, "You believe that I do? No Nadir, this night is going to be awful for both of us. It is going tax our pride and our patience. Unfortunately we have both fallen in love so we shall go to this ball regardless,"

Nadir sighed, "Promise me you will remain grumpy and sulky in the corner so I shall have someone to stand with?"

"I shall do my best but I rather think Gemma will not allow it,"

"Do you remember Erik, when you were in control of your relationships?"

I knew I should have been angry with him for pointing this out but I merely laughed, "No, no I do not,"

Gemma had retired to her own home in preparation for the ball in order to have the benefit of her families countless maids. Apparently I could not dress her as well as they could. It was probably for the best; tying up a corset or advising a woman about power and rouge were not my area of expertise and I knew it.

However now Nadir and I were faced with the uncomfortable task of going to the Chevalier home and collecting Gemma; I had rented a carriage for this purpose. It was Gemma's idea to do this, to arrive with myself and Nadir instead of her family. She did not have to explain the benefit to me; I knew if we alighted with her it would make our place in the social hierarchy much more substantial.

It came time for us to leave and Nadir and I climbed wordlessly into the carriage. It occurred to me then that I had not spoken to Count Chevalier since his forced apology. I wondered if I would have to now; no doubt I would before the end of the night.

The Chevalier home was just as grand as I remembered it. Its magnificent façade threw into sharp clarity just how superfluous the construction of a new home was. Still, it was the Count's money, not mine.

The door opened for us and I recognized the same snooty butler who had greeted me on my first trip to the household. Somehow now though his air did not seem so pretentious, but perhaps I was just imagining things.

I noticed out of the corner of my eye that Nadir was fidgeting wildly with his cuffs again.

"These damn things will be the death of me!" I heard him mutter. I remembered that he had never been inside this grand home before. Still I thought this no excuse; he had once worked for royalty in Persia after all.

"Would you relax?" I whispered forcefully, "You are making yourself out to be a damn idiot!"

"Well I can not help it if…oh my," Nadir's eyes left mine for something behind me.

Gemma had not kept us waiting long. She appeared at the top of the stairs; a vision of beauty in angelic white. As I understood the theme of that ball was in fact black and white. However she could breathe in that ensemble was beyond me as her waist was cinched so tight my one had could have fit all the way around it. I could see white feathers adorned her hair and though her dress was completely white many clever things adorned it; lace was sewn on in swirling patterns.

Despite her attire she had a sparkle in her eyes which was most assuredly not pious. The moment she saw me she dashed down the stairs and threw her arms around my neck.

"I missed you," She whispered, pressing her lips to mine.

"It has been but a day since I have seen you,"

"Still, I've grown quite used to being around you," She smiled at me and I was a bit surprised to see that her eyes were glowing now with excitement and happiness; not a trace of malice or wicked mischief.

"Nadir! Don't you look splendid?" Gemma turned to him in greeting. Nadir's clothes had been purchased at the same tailor shop as mine. Gemma had arraigned for the whole thing and, though Nadir would never know this, _she_ had been the one to pay for his clothing. I had planned on doing it, as I had more than enough money, but Gemma had insisted. She had even offered to pay for mine as well but I would not allow that.

Nadir smiled a bit awkwardly as Gemma looked him over, "Are you sure this is a good idea? For me to come that is,"

"Of course it is a good idea! I did come up with it didn't I?"

"Yes," Nadir grumbled, "That is what worries me,"

Gemma shook her head, "Just relax and act natural. Remember, both of you," She turned to me now, "None of the people you are meeting today are worth the kind of respect and admiration they demand; do not let any of them make you feel inferior. They are your equals; remember that,"

Her tone was very serious as she gave us this advice. I knew she was right, but I also knew that it would be hard to keep this in mind once I was among all the other guests who would not have to wear a mask.

"I suppose we should be going," Gemma continued.

I looked around the quiet house, "Where is your family?"

"Oh! They have left already,"

"Are we late then?" I checked my pocket watch nervously. This was the time Gemma had told me to come wasn't it? Had I already made a social mistake?

"I dare say we are. No Erik," She closed my pocket watch, "As a rule I always arrive late. Only the truly idiotic go to a party on time!" She winked at me and linked her arm through mine. I took this as a sign that I should lead her to the carriage.

I handed her up into the carriage and took a very deep breath. I had the feeling this was going to be a true disaster. Until that moment when we began the ride to the ball I had not actually believe I would have to go. I had thought I would drop dead first! All the rules of etiquette I had ever learned or observed seemed to go out of my head and I was certain I would make a fool out of myself.

I knew that Nadir was just as apprehensive as I was. I felt for the man; his future happiness all depended on making a good impression at this ball.

Gemma however was very serine and relaxed next to me. I saw her glance at me out of the corner of her eye and she laid her hand over mine.

"This is going to be just fine Erik," She whispered in my ear, "This is a party! You are to enjoy yourself, I will see to that. Do not frown like that my darling; it makes you look so very old,"

I turned to her and offered a weak smile. She laughed, "I love you Erik; remember that won't you?"

Taking her hand I pressed my lips to it, "I shall my love,"


	35. New York, New Woman

It was no time at all before we arrived in front of a very large mansion set back from the main road. The dirt drive was already marked with the lines and hoof prints of countless other carriages which had come before us. I could hear music drifting out from the ballroom and the sounds of laughter coming from the other guests.

Despite any comfort Gemma could offer my insides all froze with the thought of interacting with all of these people. Ever guests was adorned with three weapons with which to smote me; two eyes to stare and one mouth to whisper.

It was to late however to go back. There was nothing left to do but cross the threshold of the large gray estate house and enter a world second to none in gossip, black mail, and all sorts of other games. And on my arm I would have the queen of it all…

As the carriage stopped and I saw quite a few photographers, I assumed from various newspapers, ready there cameras, a voice arose in the back of my mine.

Ironic and mocking it sung me a tune in the tone of a dirge; past the point of no return. No going back now!

My legs felt numb as I stepped out of the carriage. I hardly felt Gemma's hand in mine as she took it to help her own decent from the carriage. I wondered if those closest to me could see that I was shaking slightly. The flashbulbs from those large cameras which had begun to shine once they had caught sight of Gemma reminded me too keenly of stage spotlights.

It was well that Gemma hooked her arms through ours and began walking into the house because I do not think Nadir and I would have done it otherwise.

Of course Gemma acted as though she had been borne doing all of this. She coolly took myself on one arm and Nadir on the other and moved gracefully across the ground. She granted the eager camera men one coy smile. Moving her lips hardly at all she whispered to me;

"Ignore them; don't even look,"

I quickly turned my head away and I wondered why Gemma had instructed me to do this. It was then that I realized fully that I had gone completely out of my own senses and would rely on Gemma to tell me what to do.

Thankfully none of these excited photographers were allowed inside. Once we passed under the doors and they were out of sight I allowed myself to relax a little…a very little.

Now I was faced with an even more frightening prospect. An entire ball room's attention suddenly turned to Gemma, Nadir, and myself. Vaguely I heard someone announce our names to the room.

A group of people quickly rushed up to us; introducing themselves to Nadir and I as if we ourselves were of interest to them before greeting Gemma like a long lost daughter.

Normally I pride myself as being able to remember a great deal of things even if I only hear them once. However my nerves prevented any such memorization; I could hardly produce my own name as I shook hands!

Gemma artfully guided us through this sudden onrush of people until she spotted someone who it seemed she actually wanted to talk to.

A young woman, most likely Gemma's own age, and also quite beautiful, approached us and I saw Gemma's eyes show a slight flicker of relief.

"Daria!" Gemma embraced this friend I had never seen and I heard her whisper in her ear, "Thank God!"

"You sly fox," The girl smirked back at Gemma. This Daria spoke quite good French but I detected an accent which suggested she was actually from England. "You arrived last,"

"Yes well, with all I have to do, I could not possibly have come a moment sooner," Gemma's eyes twinkled with sarcasm though she kept her voice relatively free of mockery.

Her friend laughed; clearly these two had known each other long enough to understand one another's humor.

"Where are the others?" Gemma asked.

"Come with me," Daria led us to the center of this grand ballroom where everyone had congregated.

I stole a few glances around the room as we walked. It was indeed quite splendid. If the money used to build this opulent palace had been instead given to some charity then the foundling homes in Paris would take on a new look. Of course that was assuming that the money would end up in the right hands. I sighed at this thought; considering what I knew of people money was very rarely used for the right reason.

I dismissed these thoughts as irrelevant as we walked. We weaved through couples dressed in black and white. They all looked quite impressive and I knew that this party was what eager social climbers everywhere would die to attend.

My mind could not help but go back to that damn masquerade ball at the opera. It was a very similar scene; everyone turned out in their best dress to enjoy the night. However this room was even more opulent than any at the opera. It occurred to me that everyone at this party could probably afford to buy or at least become patron of the opera several times over.

The ceiling was decorated with a grand mural edged in gold. At one end of the space a grand staircase led to the countless rooms above and the floor we now walked on was marble. Hundreds of gold and silver candelabras were placed everywhere, casting a yellow glow onto all the guests. In another corner a very sizable orchestra was playing Water Music. I supposed that if it had been good enough for King George I it was good enough for these guests.

"Gemma!"

Many people said quick greetings to Gemma as she passed, some even knew who I was and bid welcome to me as well. Gemma sailed smoothly passed all of them, giving only some a response.

Yet when we reached the cluster of people at the center of the room and another young woman called out her name she rushed over to embrace her.

"Lily! Thank God!"

"Gemma! We were beginning to think you would not come!"

Gemma stepped away from this other Lily person and stood next to me again.

"Erik, Nadir, these are my very dear friends; this it Daria Werbowy, Lily Donaldson, and Katharine Rocha," Gemma motioned to the each of the three women in turn. They all responded to Nadir and I quite politely.

It made good sense that Gemma would be friends with these women. They were all exceptionally beautiful. Daria had brown hair and shining blue eyes. She was also quite tall, just like Gemma, and very well endowed.

Lily two had medium blue eyes. She was a golden blond like Gemma and she had a very bright smile.

Katharine was a darker blond but none the less gorgeous.

"Girls this is Erik Bonheur and Nadir Kahn,"

"How silly of us," Katharine smiled slyly but not cruelly, "We should have known you would out do us by bringing two escorts while we had only one," She nodded her head to three men approaching, each with two glasses of champagne in their hands.

"Oh this one is not mine," Gemma touched Nadir's arm, "He is just on lone for the moment; have you seen Victoria Ward?"

"Who?" Lily was not afraid to show to Gemma that she did not know who she was talking about. Any other person would never have shown that they did not know exactly who Gemma was speaking of.

"Never mind; she will be found Nadir," She turned to him, "Fret not, surely someone has seen her,"

The men had reached us now. I was assuredly their senior but even more off putting was how dreadfully handsome they all were. I had seen them all before; not them exactly of course but I knew their kind. They were the men that went back stage at the opera to woo young ballerinas and singers.

They were my enemies, my arch rivals and now here they were in front of me, being introduced to me.

Mademoiselle Donaldson introduced me to her fiancé Derek Westwood, who I quickly found out was an American.

Mademoiselle Werbowy was escorted by a Phillip Ferretti, an Italian who I greeted in his native tongue, something that he seemed to appreciate but not be impressed by.

Mademoiselle Rocha was with Viktor Van Noten, a suave German man with very thick eyebrows. Unfortunately this feature did not make him terribly unattractive.

I could only imagine what I must have looked like to them. Yet imagining this made me a little sick so I tried not to.

"Excuse us for a moment won't you?" Gemma tugged on mine and Nadir's arms, "We must fine Victoria,"

I was glad to have an excuse to leave them even if only for a few moments.

Gemma however did not wonder about the room. Instead she led us to a long table covered in white silk and filled with shining crystal champagne flutes along with wine and brandy glasses. The moment we approached the table the young man behind it gave Gemma his full attention. Gemma merely pointed at the champagne flutes and she quickly filled three glasses.

"Are we…going to look for Victoria then?" Nadir asked hesitantly as he nearly drained his drink in one gulp.

"Be patient friend," Gemma smiled a bit mischievously at him as she sipped her champagne.

I wondered what on earth she could be waiting for but suddenly I saw Mademoiselle Lily Donaldson darting toward us.

"Gemma, were you looking for a Victoria _Ward_?"

"Yes of course; why? Have you seen her?"

"No, not personally, but I asked that gossiping ninny Madame D'Aubigne and she said that she had been told a family by the surname Ward was here and they had a daughter named Victoria. Then she began about how the poor girl must be here after her son,"

"I had no idea she even had a son,"

"Yes; he is the bald one just over there," Lily pointed.

"Oh! How…unfortunate," Gemma hid her laughter as her gaze fell on the portly man Lily was indicating.

My stomach tightened; if not having hair was so condemnable what about not possessing a half a face?

"Anyway, I believe this Victoria Ward is over by the orchestra with her family,"

"Thank you Lily," She turned to Nadir and I, "Shall we?" Gemma took my arm again and Lily did not hesitate in taking Nadir and allowing him to escort her across the room. Apparently she was coming with us to fetch Victoria Ward.

The Ward family was not hard to find. It was clear that they were not accustomed to this kind of company, or rather that this congregation of guests was not used to them. They stood apart from the rest of the party goers and seemed just as awed by all this splendor as I was.

As we approached Mr. Ward cleared his throat as if to speak but it seemed he had temporarily lost his ability to speak.

This was the first time I had seen Victoria Ward. Nadir was right, she was a very pretty girl. Perhaps others would not find her as attractive as Gemma or Lily but I saw her eyes light up as Nadir walked toward her and I found this clear show of love more pleasing than any degree of higher beauty.

"Good evening Victoria," Nadir greeted her with a forced calm you had to appreciate.

"It is good to see you again," She replied in a soft voice and I saw her cheeks flush a bit.

"Victoria," Gemma jumped in after their brief hellos, "I am so happy to meet you at last, Nadir speaks of you constantly and with the greatest admiration I might add," Gemma spoke very sweetly to the young girl who blushed wildly when she mentioned Nadir's affections.

"Mr. and Mrs. Ward, we have not been properly introduced," Gemma turned to Victoria's parents, "I am Gemma Chevalier,"

"Yes," Mr. Ward spoke in an excited tone, "We know who you are of course; who does not?" He laughed nervously, "We were so glad to receive this invitation from you,"

Gemma waited a moment for him to give his name and his wife's but it seemed that all this excitement had made Mr. Ward forget his manners slightly.

"It was no trouble at all," Gemma continued smoothly, "I was only too happy to, especially after I learned of how deeply my friend cared for your daughter. I must say I see why; she is quite lovely. Have you ever thought of modeling Victoria?"

"Oh…no…no," The shy girl was now as red as a tomato.

"Do you mind if we barrow her?" Gemma asked, not waiting for an answer as she and Mademoiselle Donaldson took Victoria by her hands and led her away.

Nadir and I bowed slightly to Mr. and Mrs. Ward before quickly turning and following the three women.

We had just joined the rest of Gemma's circle of friends when we were approached, very humbly, by an older man dressed just as the young man who had poured our drinks.

"Pardon me, but we are ready for you in the dinning room, if you would like to follow me?"

Gemma only nodded and linked her arm through mine and we were off. I was amazed as we were led to the back of this grand room and down a wide hallway. Gemma never turned her head to look at what we were passing and she was practically dragging me along by the arm. I was so worried over making a fool of myself that my legs had started to go numb again.

The hall was lined with candle filled sconces which lit our way to the dinning room. When we came out into it I had to fight to keep any sort of shocked expression off of my face. It was just as large as the ball room we had just left and it was filled with silk covered round tables.

We were led to one at the center of the room. To my surprise my name was on a card at one of the seats. Gemma's name appeared on my left and Nadir was on my right. I made a note to thank Gemma later; I knew that having Nadir and Victoria was completely Gemma's design.

I was very relieved to sit down as my legs felt so wobbly. I looked across the table briefly at the faces of Daria Werbowy, Katharine Rocha, Ferretti and Van Noten and I wondered what they thought of me. I had the suspicion that they would be kind to me, at least while Gemma was beside me. Still, every time I felt any eye on my I could not help but think that Gemma's friends were repulsed by me. They would not say it, but I knew they believe me to be some kind of freak.

What if this was all some colossal joke Gemma was playing on me? What if I was nothing more than a side show to her? I could just hear her telling Mademoiselle Rocha,

"You will not believe the man I have found! He is the most strange looking creature! What until you see him!"

"Erik?" Gemma actually spoke to me and I realized I had become quite lost in my diabolical thoughts about her that my eyes had glazed over a bit. "Darling?" Gemma put her hand on my knee.

I shook my head and forced a smile at her.

"Gemma has told us that you taught her to play the piano," Daria spoke to me now, "Is she going to be able to make Mademoiselle Sigmund look like an amateur?"

"I believe so," I responded quickly and without taking any time to think over my works. I was so jumpy I could not even think, "And if her skills are not sufficient I have instructed her to slip something extra into Mademoiselle Sigmund's drink,"

I realized that comment was quite inappropriate and rude the moment the words left my mouth but it was too late to take it back. That kind of talk was acceptable when Gemma and I were alone but now I worried that her friends would now believe I was a freak who poisoned people! What a mess!

However a moment later most everyone at the table was laughing.

"That, I am sure, would be a more entertaining turn of events than this battle of the piano," Katharine Rocha smiled, duly amused, "Those Sigmund sisters are so very pious all the time! I do not think either of them even accepted a glass of champagne!"

The girls began talking now of the Sigmund sisters and all of their flaws. I did not care that the conversation was cruel, as long as it did not involve me saying something stupid.

I did not listen very carefully to exactly what Gemma and the other women were saying. It mattered nothing at all to me what made Marie and Bella Sigmund so objectionable.

More and more people were entering into the dinning room now. I stole quick glances at all of them, noting their tendency to stare at my particular table, or rather, Gemma's table. Each gaze of every new occupant of the room traveled a similar pattern.

First they took in the general splendor; the silk covered tables and the shining crystal dinner wear. Then, as if they had caught sight of some mythical creature, they all stared at Gemma. Some of them did not even blink. Of course after a few moments their gaze would shift to the ethereal Lily Donaldson, on to the darker more mysterious Katharine Rocha and then to gorgeous Daria Werbowy.

I wondered what they all thought when their eyes fell upon me.

The Count and Countess Chevalier entered the room before too much time had passed. I had wondered when I would be seeing them. I stole a quick glance at Gemma. She did not acknowledge the presence of her family; Georgette and Gisele, with Deniau at her side, trailed behind the Count and Countess.

I looked back at the Chevalier family. Unlike every other party guest they did not stare at Gemma and her circle.

Though my full attention was elsewhere I still heard the conversation between Gemma and her friends, which was quite fortunate as I was to become the next topic.

"Gemma…you spend the summer out here in this remote corner of France and you still manage to have your name in the Paris news," Katharine Rocha's eyes fell on me, "I believe you are partially responsible for that,"

I shook my head, "No; I am just an architect Mademoiselle. Gemma is the one who makes all of the news,"

"Then I am correct in believing that you were hired to build Count Chevalier's home?" Ferretti regarded me coolly over his champagne glass. "You must be very good; Gemma has not been known to see working men in the past,"

I felt my face redden with anger and my nose flare. Yet before I could say anything to defend myself Mademoiselle Daria Werbowy brought her elbow swiftly into Ferretti's ribs.

"Do not be so prejudice Phillip; it is rather unattractive," Daria offered me a very small, composed smile, "You will have to excuse him Monsieur Bonheur; he is an idiot,"

This comment drew laughter from everyone at the table but I still felt unsettled. I was not sure if I was being insulted or not.

"I think it is lovely how the two of you met; and it must have been a great relief to meet you," Lily spoke to me, "Gemma hates coming to Deauville,"

"That is not true," Gemma said quickly, sipping her drink, "Well…it is not entirely true,"

"Then…none of you summer in Deauville?" I asked.

"No, well," Katharine Rocha laughed, "Our families have in the past but only Gemma has come here each summer; all of us I believe have spent most of our lives in Paris but Gemma is the one true Frenchwoman at this table,"

"Yes; all the rest of you are simple minded visitors," Gemma cast her gaze around the table at all of her friends, "That affords me the right to be condescending and snide toward you,"

"Oh is that why you behave in such a manner," Katharine Rocha loosed a delicate laugh, "And all these years I have simply thought you mean spirited,"

"Not at all," Gemma said, "If you have been but borne in Paris instead of Moscow our relationship would be completely different,"

"What a shame that would be," Katharine shook her head as she sipped her champagne.

"Well Erik while we are on the subject," Gemma placed her hand on my shoulder, "Daria was borne in England and so was Lily. You might have guessed that Monsieur Ferretti is Italian and Monsieur Van Noten comes from Russia. Of course you will have realized that Derek is American; his accent always gives him away I am afraid. We are at a table among foreigners!"

"How dreadful," I said, sincerely hoping that my words would not be taken seriously. In the past I had been told that my character was of such a dry nature that is was difficult for those who did not know me well, and that encompassed a great number of people, to differentiate the serious from the sarcastic.

"Foreign friends seems to be something you two have in common," Daria Werbowy settled her eyes on Nadir, "Am I right in thinking that you were not borne in France?"

"Persia," He said shortly and more than a bit awkwardly. As painfully nerve racking as all this was for him I was glad he was there. It felt good to have a comrade among so many scrutinizing strangers.

"Isn't that fascinating?" Gemma stepped in quickly to save Nadir from any sort of humiliation. "Most people live such an insular life; it is far too easy to forget that the limits of the world extend beyond familiar cities like London and Paris,"

"And New York," Daria raised her glass, "Do not forget New York,"

Gemma laughed, "How could I?" She raised her glass and clinked it against Mademoiselle Werbowy's, "I could never forget New York,"

"I can not wait until the fall; you will be coming?"

"Of course? Why ever would I not?"

My heart suddenly started to beat very fast and but I forced myself to remain calm for the moment. Not caring about how the question would seem to the others I asked Gemma.

"Where are you going?"

"New York City," Gemma said casually, as though this was information I should have known already.

There was nothing I could do now to keep my heart rate under control. I knew that my surprise was showing, along with the sudden sickness I was feeling. I knew I looked like a fool; Gemma was supposed to be my lover. I should have known her plans.

Her plans were to leave; she was going to leave me. Fall was not very far off…and she had not even told me.

Gemma was leaving for New York.

"How long,"

"Excuse me?" Gemma and the rest had moved on to another topic.

"How long will you be gone?"

I knew that now Gemma and I both looked like idiots. Gemma did not want to seem answerable to anyone; she was not answerable to anyone. Meanwhile I was looking distressed and desperate. Yet how could I hide my true feelings at a moment like this? Gemma was going to leave me!

"Three months,"

The rest of the table had gone dreadfully quiet. They were all staring at me; I could feel the weight of their gazes. I do not know how I appeared to them; angry or heartbroken.

I could feel myself shaking and I tried desperately to stop but I found it difficult to control my emotions. Gemma was notorious for leaving men and I thought I had understood that. I thought I could accept the idea that Gemma would be with me for only a little while before she was gone. Now that I was faced with her actually leaving I realized that I had begun to believe that Gemma loved me enough to stay with me forever.

"Erik will you come with me for a moment? I need to speak with Georgette about our performances later,"

With that Gemma invented a way to get us up from the table. We began to walk and Gemma whispered angrily to me.

"Erik why are you acting like such a fool? We will discuss this later! You are embarrassing me,"

I grabbed her arm and stopped her forcefully, "Am I? What about you? Gemma you are leaving for three months and you did not even think to tell me!" I glared at her.

Gemma yanked her arm away from me. I suddenly became aware of the fact that since we had stood from the table we had become the pre dinner show. Not one pair of eyes was anywhere but on us.

"Erik," Gemma returned my fiery gaze, "I will not tolerate being manhandled! I cannot understand what you are so upset about! It is only three months and then I will be back in Paris. Besides, I thought you would come with me,"

"Come…! Come with you?" I was confused.

"Yes of course!" Her anger faded just a bit, "I thought I would surprise you with an invitation. I did not intend for you to find out this way. Further I did not think you would become so upset!"

"How on earth could I not be upset! For Christ's sake Gemma! You are leaving me!"

"I am not leaving you; you are coming with me,"

"Gemma I can't. I have to remain here; I am working on your father's house have you forgotten?"

"But…well I am sure I can get my father to spear you,"

"I am sure you could but Gemma there is a lot of work to be done and I must be there to oversee it. My name is going to be attached to this project! I am more than obligated to finish it,"

Gemma shook her head, her indignation melting even as I looked at her.

"Oh Erik…I am sorry; I've made an awful mistake," Gemma looked up into my eyes, "I was not even thinking…am I that inconsiderate? I have already bought you a ticket,"

"I can not go,"

"Of course," Gemma shook her head, "I cannot stay Erik; I agreed to work in New York,"

"Gemma," I shifted the weight of my body from one foot to another, "Everyone is…staring at us,"

Gemma looked as though she was somewhere very far from this elegantly decorated dinning room. There was a very concerned look on her face.

"Oh…yes of course. I'm sorry I was not thinking…again," In the blink of an eye Gemma pulled herself together with a skill that marked her lifetime of being watched by the public. The woman standing in front of me now looked nothing but composed.

"Kiss my hand," She whispered.

"What—?"

"Trust me Erik,"

I did as she asked. I took Gemma's delicate hand in mine and pressed her knuckles to my lips. To my surprise everyone in the room began to clap for a few moments and then went back to talking among themselves…most likely about what they had just seen.

"Ours is not the first fight these people have witnessed," Gemma linked her arm though mine and we began to walk through the tables, "That is the well recognized sign of forgiveness,"

"Where are we going?" I noticed we were not headed back to our table. I suddenly felt a sting of worry; I had left Nadir and Victoria alone with Gemma's circle.

"We have to go and talk to Georgette now. We have to look as though we were going to do something do we not?"

"I suppose," Talking to the Chevalier family was not an aspect of the evening I had been looking forward to…not that I had been looking forward to any part of the evening.

We quickly found the Chevalier's table. The Count and Countess were occupied speaking with other guests but Gemma managed to gain Georgette's attention and motioned her to come over to us.

"What is it?" She asked bluntly.

"You look ridiculous in that dress," Gemma spoke just as frankly.

Georgette's face grew red, "That is what you called me over here to say?"

"No; it simply occurred to me the moment I saw you,"

Georgette scowled, "You are simply dreadful sometimes you do know that?"

"Are you read for your performance later?" Gemma ignored her sister's comment.

"I believe so; are you? I have already heard people talking of how much they are looking forward to Bella's performance,"

"Fools," Gemma smiled, "After they see me they will not think twice about Bella Sigmund,"

"They had better not," Georgette balled her hands into fists, "You know what that man has done?" I could only assume that she was talking about her former suitor Claude Bonnay. "He is wearing the pair of cufflinks that I gave him for his birthday! Can you believe his nerve?"

Gemma tossed her head, "We shall see you after dinner," Clearly Gemma thought that the task of speaking to Georgette had been sufficiently accomplished and now the conversation was finished.

Gemma and I were about to walk back to our table when another couple appeared at Georgette's side; Marie Sigmund and Claude Bonnay.

"Good evening Georgette," Marie spoke most kindly but I could not help but think that she had come over with the sole purpose of embarrassing Georgette.

"Good evening," Georgette did not hide the cool tone in her voice, "I believe you know my sister Gemma? And this is Erik Bonheur,"

I kissed Marie's hand and shook Bonnay's.

"Am I right? Are you two planning on gracing this congregation with a performance as well?" Marie asked in a very polite voice.

"You are correct," Gemma said in just as sweet a voice, "After hearing you the guests will be wanting to hear some music,"

On that note Gemma turned on her heel and I swiftly followed. We walked back toward our table arm in arm.

"Here Gemma," I held out my other hand to her as we walked, opening it to show her, "You may give these back to Georgette,"

Gemma gasped as she took the cufflinks out of my hand, "How did you do that Erik?"

I laughed; it had been dreadfully easy to take the one while we shook hands and then the other just as we were leaving. It was not the most noble or mature thing I had ever done but it did make me feel better. I had been confronted with yet another foppish but handsome rich young man who was happily engaged and I had made the choice without much thought.

I may have been uncomfortable around all these people and more than heartbroken because Gemma was leaving me for three months but I had Claude Bonnay's cufflinks. It was a small kind of comfort but a comfort none the less.

"Did you find your sister?" Lily asked as we sat back down at our table.

"Yes; we also ran into Marie and Claude...and look! Erik stole his cufflinks!"

I shuttered inwardly. I did not think it was in my best interest to be known as a thief to these people.

"Why ever did you do that?" Nadir spoke for the second time that night and looked at me horrified. He knew my past and no doubt did not want to see any of it reenacted, even in the smallest way.

"My sister Georgette gave them to Claude as a gift and he wore them tonight!" Gemma explained the circumstances.

"Oh this was in very bad taste," Daria Werbowy shook her head, "But Erik, how could you possibly do that without him noticing?"

"He couldn't," Monsieur Ferretti fixed his eyes on me, "It is not possible,"

"Well let us just find out," Derek Westwood, how I believed was of an amiable enough nature, smiled at me, "Try taking mine,"

I sat for a moment without moving. Was this man actually serious? He wanted me to steal his cufflinks? Did we really have nothing better to do?

I supposed we did not.

I stood and so did Westwood.

"Pleased to meet you," I said, extended my hand to him. He understood and shook my hand.

"You did not do it," Mousier Van Noten looked at me as I sat back down.

"Yes he did," Derek Westwood laughed, "Look," He showed the cuff of his shirt.

"My God!" Lily laughed, examining her fiancé's wrist, "How do you do that?"

This was not want I had expected. I had come to this party thinking that a few choice words would be thrown my way but on a whole I would be ignored. I had not thought I would end up entertaining them with slide of hand. If I had been asked I would have requested to be ignored. I had been a magician in the court of Persia and that had been enough _entertaining_ for a lifetime.

"It is only a silly trick," I said, "It requires little skill and it boasts even less utility,"

"Not entirely so," Gemma smiled at me, "Your ability has been vital to this night,"

"Yes well, I knew that one day I would be confronted with one sister's ex lover and I would simply have no choice but to take his cufflinks. I have been waiting for this day nearly all my life,"

Everyone was amused by this but I hardly noticed. It no longer mattered very much to me what these people thought of me. As hard as I tried I could not push the thought of Gemma leaving out of my mind. I knew I would miss her in the most painful way. I believed that it was her intention to return to me…at least that was what her current intention seemed to be. Yet much could happen in three months. She could meet another man and fall in love.

I realized then that Gemma was not just going to break my heart; she was going to rip it slowly in two.

It was very easy to understand the allure of these high society parties. Every inch of the dinning hall sparkled with gold and silver, the waiters moved in between the tables with the same kind of grace ballerinas were gifted with. The food was certainly not lacking and conversation was pleasant enough. It was apparent now that Gemma had chosen her friends quite well. She could have picked any beautiful, rich young people but these were more entertaining. Mademoiselle Lily Donaldson was very sweet, Daria Werbowy was just as clever as Gemma, and Katharine Rocha told stories better than many I had met.

Yet I felt as though I was looking at all of it through a veil. Everything was hazy; only one thought was clear; in a short time Gemma and I would be parted.

This had been what I was expecting…but it seemed so sudden. I had imagined that we would grow apart slowly…that I would see the signs and be able to prepare myself.

Gemma had invited me to go with her and part of me dearly wished I could. I was not entirely sure what was holding me back. Duty to Count Chevalier or dread…dread of following Gemma around New York accompanied by her close friends and all of her worshiping admirers. That did not seem like the life for me. I felt too old, too emotionally exhausted by the pervious years of my life.

Maybe she would come back to me. Yet picturing her, running around the city dressed in the most glamorous outfits the world could offer her, it seemed much more likely that she would meet some other man. Someone younger than I, someone who could keep up with her.

"Are you alright?" Through the curtain separating me from the rest of the guests at the party I heard Gemma talking to me.

It was only then that I realized the dinner was over and that we were all walking back into the ball room. Those sitting at our table had split up into pairs and Gemma and I were alone for a moment.

"You have not said much," She said softly, giving my arm a gentle squeeze.

"I am fine,"

"Erik…I am so sorry I should have told you sooner," She was speaking very quietly, no doubt so as not to let anyone who might be listening to us overhear anything.

"I did not think it would be a problem you see," She continued, "I thought you would be happy to come with me…I mean; I thought you could come with me. I apologize Erik; I am afraid I was rather thoughtless,"

"It was not your fault Gemma,"

"Yes it was! This whole thing," She shook her head, "I embarrassed you…and after you agreed to come to this party with me…what a mess," I heard her sigh.

"Gemma," I said her name but I found that beyond that I knew not what to say…so we remained silent.

Everyone began to congregate in a loosely defined circle around the center of the ball room. I realized then that we were about to experience the 'talent' part of the evening.

This was an interesting spectacle. There were many young women who took up a variety of instruments and played pieces. None of them were very good but only a few were disasters.

I quickly discovered that the rest of the guests were under no strict obligation to devote full attention to these performers. Most talked, albeit in lowered voices, through the performances.

Gemma and I did not speak much. She was twisting her fingers a bit and I realized that she was nervous.

When it came time for Georgette and Marie to perform there was a noticeable drop in the amount of conversation in the room.

Marie was clearly very talented at playing the harp. She looked like nothing less than an angel and sounded just as heavenly.

Georgette did well for herself after Marie was finished but it was clear to me that she had not been at this study as long as Marie.

Then there was the main event; Bella Sigmund took her place at the piano keys. The room was silent now. I was sure that everyone was aware of the circumstances which had passed between the Sigmund sisters and the Chevalier sisters. If Bella Sigmund could play better than the wondrous Gemma Chevalier it could possibly change the social empire Gemma had created.

Bella began to play. I understood why everyone enjoyed her music; she was very good indeed. She had perfect posture and lightening quick fingers and her eyes were never on the keys for more than half a second. When she finished I did not know if Gemma had it in her to do better.

I looked over at her. She was no longer fidgeting with her fingers. She stood straight, her continence showed none of the nerves I had seen earlier.

I found myself a bit hypnotized by her; she had the most sweet and yet beguiling smile on her lips. Her eyes held a soft expression and her skin glowed in the candle light.

Gemma walked confidently and gracefully to the piano and sat down. She placed her delicate hands on the keys and began to play. I had heard this tune before, I had heard Gemma play it before…but I had never seen it done like this.

No note was wrong, no rhythm was missed but there was more than that. Something in the way she smiled as she played, the way her body moved a bit in time. Gemma did not seem as though she was merely playing, it looked and felt and sounded like the music was coming from some deep, spiritual place inside of her.

My eyes searched the faces of the audience briefly. They were all entranced by the spell she was casting. This was talent; this was why people gravitated toward Gemma Chevalier. She had something inside of her, something that you were simply borne with and it called out to all those around her.

I watched the little ingénue dazzle her audience, knowing that I had had some part in creating this. I had given her the skill to play and she had added it to her natural ability to stun anyone who looked at her.

She finished and the room erupted in applause. Gemma stood, smiling graciously and none the less captivatingly. She moved away from the piano and I realized she was coming to me.

Gemma took my hands, "Was that all right?" She asked sweetly.

"Perfect," I breathed.

"Whatever the situation with Georgette I did this for you Erik," Gemma whispered to me, "To make you proud,"

It seemed like a waste to worry at that moment. Gemma was going to leave me in a matter of weeks and then I would never see any of these party guests again.

I drew Gemma in to me before she could protest. I kissed her lips deeply; this may have been one of my last chances. I was well aware of the fact that an intimate kiss in public such as this one was highly inappropriate but what did that matter? Gemma would not be mine in the future; I only had her at that moment.

She did nothing to stop me. She returned my affections with fervor. I could not help but think that this was the way it ought to be; Gemma played for me and then came back to me.

The whole room was quiet, watching us. As we drew apart I heard the voice of Katharine Rocha start speaking, taking the focus off of us. Soon the rest of Gemma's friends followed her and then the whole room was talking again.

Gemma did not pull away from me. She kept her arms around my neck and her head on my shoulder.

"Forgive me Erik; I am afraid I have not been very good to you," she whispered.

"It is alright Gemma; I hold nothing against you," I told her.

"Would you like to leave Erik?" She asked me, moving back a bit so she could look at me.

"The party is not over,"

"I know, but I do not wish to make you any more miserable than you are already,"

I wondered if I should tell her that quitting the party would not keep me from being miserable. She was leaving for New York and nothing would change that.

Instead of telling her this I accepted her proposal and decided to leave.

I found Nadir to tell him this. He was standing beside Victoria and her parents who immediately offered to bring Nadir home if he wished to stay. Nadir accepted of course and Gemma and I left alone.

The drive home was rather silent. I could not help but follow my line of reasoning from earlier. Gemma and I were at very different points in our lives. She was young and adventurous. Gemma was still full of life and resilient.

I was none of those things. It had been years since I had that spirit of youth. I needed someone who was ready to make some kind of life with me. I did not have the energy or the time to run around with Gemma, waiting for her to be ready to fully commit to me.

We hurried into my house; it was quite cold out now and neither Gemma nor I were dressed properly for it. When we reached my bedroom I sat heavily on the bed. Gemma went to the vanity and began to remove the pins from her hair. I watched her locks of gold be freed to fall wherever they pleased around her face. She looked more beautiful than any creature I had ever imagined.

When she had finished her hair she came and sat on the bed next to me.

"What are you thinking darling?" She asked me.

"Truly?"

"Yes,"

"I was thinking about how lovely you appeared just now,"

She blushed, which was odd for her, "You are very charming you know. Everyone at the party thought so; I could tell,"

"Will they be offended that we left early?"

"No," Gemma sighed, "Erik…may we talk about New York?"

"I cannot go Gemma,"

She smiled sadly, "And I cannot stay,"

I took a deep breath and began to say some of the hardest words I had ever spoken, "Perhaps this comes at a good time. Gemma, you know I love you very much…but I am beginning to think it is not enough. I cannot go chasing after you and you cannot make a life here,"

Gemma was silent for a few moments, "I could…after I come back from New York I could…stay here,"

I shook my head, "Come now Gemma, you and I know better than that. You would not be happy here; maybe you could be for awhile but not for the rest of your life,"

Gemma looked at me, her green and her blue eyes were watery, "I cannot bring myself to say good bye to you,"

"You don't have to," I cupped her cheek with my hand, "Besides if you really wish to see me you know you can always come back to Deauville,"

"May I stay here tonight?" Gemma asked, her voice breaking a bit.

I nodded.

We had one last night together. For the last time Gemma's body lay against mine. I did not sleep one minute and neither did she but words had failed us both.

In the morning we road back to her home on the horse she had given me.

I walked her to the door.

"Erik," She said her first words of that day, "Are you sure? I could come back to you!"

"I know you would, but what then? Gemma are you ready to make a life with me in Deauville? Are you ready to marry me?"

She shifted her weight but said nothing.

"You have given me a wonderful summer Gemma, but I am afraid it must stay at that,"

Gemma could not keep from crying now, "I always believed that when I actually fell in love everything would fall into place,"

"Love is never that easy," I laughed mirthlessly, "Something you learn in time,"

"I still love you Erik," She took my hand in hers.

"I love you to," I raised her hand and pressed her knuckles to my hand.

"Then why can't we stay together? There must be something we can do! Erik I am sorry I have been so careless with your feelings but I can change!"

"You cannot change who you are Gemma. Your life is on a different course than mine; parties, people, Paris…I just cannot do it!" I leaned in and kissed her forehead. "Goodbye my love,"

She shook her head, "I still cannot say it,"

"Don't," I said, stepping away from her, "I think you will find, in time, that this is best for both of us. You can send a carriage over to collect your things if you wish. I will have them ready,"

"Forget it," Gemma tried to smile at me through her tears, "I shan't really need them,"

I nodded. That was all we had left to say to each other. It took a lot of control however to make my legs take me back to my horse.

"Erik," She called to me and I stopped, "I will always remember this summer and my love for you,"

I did not know what to say. For a moment I thought of running to her and taking her back into my arms. Yet in my heart, I knew that it could never be.

That was it; that was the end. I road back to my house and sat in the living room. A wave of emotion hit me then and I cried, as I had not in a long time. I had lost again, but I knew that it was better than pretending to be someone I was not and had no desire to become. Gemma and I were not meant to be and it would be over with her eventually. It was better to end it with her now, while I still had a chance of living without her.

Nadir found me. In his delight, he told me that he was now engaged to Victoria Ward before he realized something was wrong with me.

I did my best to be happy for him.

A week later, I read in the paper that Gemma Chevalier had left early for New York City, neglecting to stay in the country for her sisters wedding.

The trees of Deauville were the colors of the fire I felt burning me before long. It was painful to be alone, to know that no one was waiting for me to return. Once again, I had nobody to care for and there was no one to care for me.

Nadir had returned to Paris to plan his wedding to Victoria so my house was empty. I spent a great deal of time at the site working but I refused to let myself become too obsessed. I had made that mistake once before.

In time I would not have my work either. Construction would end when winter began on Count Chevalier's orders.

Now my days were rather dull. I came home to a cold, quiet house. I soon realized just how accustomed I had become to returning to Nadir and Gemma.

My mind, given no other distractions, quickly made me ill with self-reproach. I should never have let Gemma go. What on earth had I been thinking? I had been ridiculously fortunate to meet Gemma and even more fortunate that she had loved me. How would I ever find another woman like her?

I constantly berated myself for giving up the first good relationship I had ever had.

Before the last leaves had fallen from the trees I found myself wishing to give anything just to speak to Gemma again. I desperately wanted to write to her but I had no address in New York to which I could send a letter.

So the days dragged on uneventfully. It occurred to me that this was exactly the situation I had found myself in the fall previous, when I had moved out to Deauville. I could remember clearly that my intention had been to remove myself completely from society. Now however I no longer felt that need to be all alone.

I stopped having food delivered to my house so that I could have an excuse to go in to town. On these occasions I was especially thankful for Giovanni. It would have been impossible to bring things home from town without the aid of the horse. In addition he was the only friend I had here now, besides possibly Raoul Simon. However every so often I would remember than he had been a gift from Gemma and my world would become a darker shade of gray.

Daylight hours were slowly becoming shorter. The speeding sun did not affect our work days yet but if I stayed in town for anything then by the time I reached home it would be dusk.

The market was an interesting place to be. It was usually full of people, mostly women I had to admit, and none ever gave me any trouble. No one ever looked at me with fear or repugnance. Most even knew my name…due to my prior relationship with Gemma.

"Monsieur Bonheur?"

I was just picking out a loaf of bread when I heard my name. It was not completely unheard of; I was approached on a regular basis about the construction project. This time however when I turned I found myself a bit surprised.

"Mademoiselle Sigmund," I responded to Bella Sigmund's greeting.

She smiled at me. Bella Sigmund was nowhere near as beautiful as Gemma but she was still an attractive young girl. She had long brown hair and gray blue eyes; a bit more plump then Gemma but then most women were and this did nothing to detract from her agreeable appearance.

"I saw you the other day," She took a few steps closer to me so that she stood right in front of me, "Leaving the tavern," I had drinks there with Simon on occasions, "You were to far away though, for me to say anything,"

I was surprised that she had noticed me at all; in fact, I was shocked she was speaking to me. After the piano contest, I did not think she would want anything to do with me.

"Not at all Mademoiselle; I am flattered you would have thought to say anything to me at all,"

Bella laughed, "I am not one to hold someone in contempt over something as silly as a piano,"

"I am glad to hear that,"

The young woman's smile faded just a bit, "I heard of course, that Mademoiselle Chevalier left for New York,"

I felt like I had just hit a wall. No one had confronted me with this fact yet. The men at the site had minded their own matters. Still, I did not want to let myself fall apart in public.

"She had to leave," I sighed, "I have duties here,"

Bella shook her head, "I have known Gemma Chevalier for many years and she has never changed. For all of her show she is still very young, very afraid I think,"

"Really? How so?" It felt better than I thought it would to talk to someone about Gemma, "And may I ask if you are any years the senior of Mademoiselle Chevalier?"

Bella laughed again. She had a pleasant sounding kind of laugh, not as refined or musical as Gemma's had been but it showed true emotion.

"No, Gemma and I are the same age. She is not thinking about her future as I am though. The way she runs from man to man…I think she is too afraid to pick any one of them to marry,"

"She is not ready to settle yet," I said, wondering how I had wound up discussing my relationship with a relative stranger.

"But she must have broken your heart when she left," Bella prompted me to say more.

"Yes and no," I needed some kind of outlet, someone to say these words to, "I knew she would not be happy living with me in Deauville. It hurt a great deal to let her go, but it was what was right for us,"

"Then…did you end your relationship with her or did she?"

"I did,"

"Oh my," Bella's eyes widened, "So you are not…angry with her?"

"Of course not," I felt such a great release to let all of these thoughts which had been festering in my mind escape, "I will always remember her most fondly,"

Bella was silent and I believed our conversation to be over.

"It was good to see you again Mademoiselle," I tipped my hat to her and made to leave.

"Oh! Mousier—"

"Erik is just fine,"

"Oh yes of course," She laughed almost nervously, "Erik; you taught Gemma to play did you not?"

"I did,"

"Well then I was wondering…if it would not be an inconvenience, could you come and play for me? Perhaps teach me? I have always held a deep love for the piano and I am ever striving to improve,"

"Mademoiselle,"

"Bella,"

I smiled, "Bella; to be honest with you I believe you to already be most talented. I am not sure there is much I could do to improve your skill,"

"Please," Bella came toward me and took my hand, "You made Gemma play so well! I am positive there is something you can do for me,"

I thought for only a moment before I gave in to her request. I had no reason to deny it; I desperately needed company and she required a teacher.

"As you wish Bella,"

"Oh thank you!" Her smiled lit up her face, "Can you come tomorrow night?"

"I can,"

"Good," She let go of my hand, "I shall be looking forward to it,"

She turned and walked off. I picked up my loaf of bread and headed for home.

My evening with Bella Sigmund was most enjoyable. I had dinner with her family; all quite pleasant people who tactfully ignored the fact that I was wearing a strange white mask over half of my face. It was very different then the first meal I had shared with the Chevalier family; I was not nearly as nervous or fidgety. I felt the atmosphere in general to be considerably more relaxed. I would almost go as far as to say that I was at ease.

The only awkward part of the evening was the fact that ClaudeBonnay sat across from me. I had seen him now on three occasions, upon the last of which I stole his cufflinks.

I played a short piece for the family after dinner. They had a very large sitting room that featured a beautiful grand piano. It occurred to me that the Sigmund family probably had just as much money as the Chevalier family and that the two had been vying for supreme prominence for years. However, while the Sigmund daughters were lovely and talented, the Chevalier offspring were beautiful beyond measure…and they had the ultimate social weapon; Gemma.

After I had finished Bella took her seat at the piano bench and began to play. She was indeed very gifted but there were some minor corrections and improvements to make.

I actually found it quite therapeutic to teach her. It was an altogether different experience than teaching Gemma had been. Bella Sigmund was very kind and accepting of all I had to tell her. Beyond that her knowledge of music was extensive so that I could communicate to her more advanced concepts with ease. Indeed it was late into the night before I realized any time had passed.

"Thank you so much for coming tonight; I already feel an improvement in my skill," Bella said to me as I made my departure for the evening.

"Not at all Bella,"

"May we do this again sometime?" She asked.

I stared at her genuinely happy face. It occurred to me then that Bella truly loved music and that she took the utmost pleasure in learning it. I could think of no better companion; someone who I could teach and who in turn could give me an educated opinion of the music I had been writing. Besides this, I worried that if I spent too much time alone in my home with no one I could really talk to I would go mad. Raoul Simon was a good man to have a drink with and a fine choice to speak to of masonry but I could not imagine discussing anything such as literature or music with him.

"You have only to name the date,"

Over the course of that week, I saw Bella Sigmund twice more. I found the experience to be quite rewarding. Bella was clearly an amazing pianist. She lacked some of the charisma that made Gemma a star but that was of no concern to me. I thoroughly appreciated her skill.

Each time I went to the Sigmund residence I stayed long after sunset. Even when she was not playing we could talk to each other for hours on end about our favorite operas or sonatas.

"I cannot wait until I am back in Paris for the winter; I do miss the opera," Bella positively gushed about it, "I remember so clearly the first time I was there as a girl. It was the most beautiful, grand place I had ever seen! The music was so powerful; even as a girl I knew I was in love with it,"

I smiled at her. It was a joy to meet someone who shared my passion for the Paris Opera.

"Have you ever been to the opera Erik?"

"Yes…on occasion,"

"Is it not marvelous?" Bella smiled rapturously.

"I am rather fond of it yes,"

"I usually never miss a show; I am surprised I have not seen you there,"

"I had a…private box,"

"My family usually tries to rent a box as well; I cannot believe I have never seen you there!"

"I am sure you had better sights to occupy yourself with than this old man,"

"Erik stop! You aren't old,"

"I am not young,"

"But young is a state of mind!"

I laughed, "Spoken like a true youth,"

Bella smiled at me, "Will you be in Paris for the winter?"

I shrugged, "Perhaps; I am planning on attending my friend's wedding,"

"Maybe we could attend a show together?"

I thought about it for a moment. Going back to the opera house…going back to Paris would be difficult enough! To be back inside the opera house once again would bring to mind so many memories. When I had left there I had sworn never to go back.

"I'm not sure Bella…"

"Are you worried about seeing Gemma there?"

"Gemma?"

"Yes; she attends the shows as well."

"Often?"

"Yes,"

I laughed inwardly. All those nights I had focused only on Christine and all along the most beautiful, charming creature had been in the audience right in front of me.

"No; I am not worried about her. Besides, she is in New York,"

"Well she is now, along with all of those _friends_ of hers," She could not hide her derogatory tone, "But Gemma always comes back to Paris sooner or later,"

"Do you know a lot about her? Gemma I mean?"

"Well," Bella considered a moment, "We have never been friends. I have only ever known her as the flashy, popular, flirty girl who attends every party, every opening, and knows absolutely every one,"

Hearing this description of her made me realize all the more how different we were. The very thought of going out on the town every night, meeting a thousand different faces and having to worry each time that I would make a fool of myself made me cringe.

Yet that was Gemma Chevalier. Bella Sigmund telling me what everyone thought of Gemma made me realize it all over again. No, I had made the right choice in letting Gemma go.

"Gemma used to be involved with one of the patrons of the Opera I believe," Bella said after considering for a moment.

"Really?" I disguised my emotion at this drop of information.

"Yes…that family used to summer here as well. I do not know why they stopped. I think it was the older of two brothers. Yes, there were two of them…I do not think she cared for the younger one very much…at least she never liked him while they were here for the summer,"

"What…what makes you say that?" I still was not sure exactly what family she was talking about but if it was the family I thought she was speaking about than at least it had been the older brother.

"Oh well…it was a long story. I remember Gisele telling me about it. Gisele was always much nicer to me than Gemma. You see, Gisele told me that she and Gemma had been playing with this other boy. Gemma had wanted to go into the ocean but the boy stopped her because it was too dangerous. Gemma was going to go in anyway but the boy stopped her. Gisele said that he said, 'no Gemma! I am the man here and that means you must do as I say!' After that Gisele said Gemma hated the whole family,"

"The de Chagny family! That was the name," Bella continued, remembering more, "Years later she had a very serious relationship with his older brother. It caused a great deal of commotion because the older brother was a bit of a man about town. Well, rumor had it that he was going to propose to Gemma but she left him before he had the chance. After that he never seriously courted a woman again. Not only did she break his heart, she shamed the entire family; Gemma Chevalier did not think the de Chagny family good enough to marry in to…but listen to me go on! You must be board to tears with all this gossip!"

I forced a casual shrug, "I never mind listening to you Bella,"

"You are too kind Erik,"

"Now all this talk of music and the opera has put me in the mood for a performance. What will you be playing for me today?"

Bella sat at the piano and began her tune. Though her music was always enchanting I could not keep my mind on it. What a small world Paris was; Gemma had been involved with a de Chagny…and then she had left him a permanently broken man. I supposed I had gotten off easy. It did make me appreciate her more though; I had no love for the de Chagny family. It mattered little to me if Gemma broke any of their hearts.

I wondered how old Gemma had been when she had come to hate Raoul de Chagny…young I suspected. She had kept her grudge all those years, lying in wait, until the opportunity had come for her to make her move.

I had a sudden awful thought; what if Gemma was planning to do the same thing to me! What if she was only waiting for the right moment…

I dismissed this idea immediately. Gemma had loved me and we had parted on good terms. She would not try to destroy me. She was now gone from my life.

With these thoughts I was able to return my attention to the piano and to Bella. She looked lovely sitting there at the keys; loving the music she was making.

"What are you thinking about?" She asked me.

I quickly looked away, embarrassed that she had caught me staring at her.

"Only about how well you play," I assured her; which was the truth.

"Only that?" She asked, a note of disappointment in her voice.

"Yes of course, what else would I be thinking of?"

"Nothing I suppose," She said, her eyes turning to the keys.

I suddenly wondered if she had been driving at something else entirely, though I could not imagine why.

"And of course how…lovely you look,"

At these words, Bella smiled widely and though she did not look at me I could see she was blushing.

"You are too kind Erik,"

It was a certain shift; when fall showed signs of winter; summer was nothing more than a distant memory.

I awoke one night quite freezing. Shivering in my cold bed, I gathered the courage needed to get up. I placed my feet inside the slippers I had at my bedside; they were chill to the touch.

As fast as I could I rushed to the trunk at the end of my bed. Hurriedly I threw it open, snatched a large, heavy blanket from inside, and wrapped it around my shoulders.

Once that was done I scurried over to the fire place and got another one going to replace that which had died presumably a few hours earlier.

After all this was taken care of I returned to my bed; missing all the more the benefit of a warm body to share a bed with.

That day was very cold. A biter wind whipped around the house and stirred up the ocean into a gray tumult. It was astounding how different the brown sand and angry gray waves looked now compared to the glittering paradise it had seemed in the summer.

I found I needed to get my winter things out of storage. Looking at them again brought back so many thoughts. I could scarcely believe the man I had once been and the man I had become.

I saw Bella that same chill day after work was finished.

"Erik! I am so happy you came!" Bella greeted me as her butler showed me inside.

"I would not miss a chance to come and see you Bella,"

She smiled broadly. I noted how well her smile spread to her eyes.

"Erik I was wondering…would like to go to dinner in town with me?"

I put my coat back on.

I had not been in the downtown area of Deauville since my first time out with Gemma. I appreciated that experience now; I knew what I was in for and I was more at ease.

The eatery Bella had in mind was decidedly less chic than where Gemma and I had gone but I much preferred it. There was only a small amount of lighting coming from candles on the table. In addition not many other customers were there. I suspected that many potential patrons had already returned to Paris.

The candle light, the secluded atmosphere…it was all rather romantic. For the first time it occurred to me that Bella Sigmund might be interested in me for reasons other than my piano playing.

I felt quite the idiot for not realizing sooner but when I met a woman the idea that she would be interested in me was not the first conclusion I leapt to.

Still I could not be sure. After the subsequent messes of Christine and Gisele I had sworn off trying to decipher the thoughts of a woman.

I looked over at Bella. She glanced up from her menu to smile back at me before continuing to read the thing. Now that smiled was fraught with possibilities. Maybe she only desired my company for the benefit of my knowledge of music…or maybe not.

For the first time I saw her as a romantic possibility. I certainly could find no objections. Bella was a lovely young woman; intelligent, talented, and handsome. She would make any man happy. She was not the enigmatic star that Gemma Chevalier was but I did not see that as a draw back in the least.

Bella Sigmund was a real woman, someone who's interests might be somewhat aligned with mine. In a strange flash a saw a courtship, an engagement, days in Deauville spent by the piano…days filled with music.

As quickly as this train of thought struck me I forced it back in to the recesses of my mind. I was not even sure if Bella had any sort of amorous feelings for me and I already had us married! I reminded myself that while the Sigmund family was not as prominent as the Chevalier clan they were still, to my knowledge, a highly respected family.

Bella Sigmund was probably just as out of reach as Gemma Chevalier had been. Yet…Bella's mind did not seem as capricious as Gemma's. Bella seemed more grounded; her agenda did not include a thousand parties and people.

I wanted that; no I needed that. More than anything, I realized I wanted someone to share that house in Deauville with. Bella was still a bit too young but I could over look that if she could.

"Have you ever been here before?" Bella asked me, drawing me back into the moment.

"No, I have not had the pleasure."

"Oh well the food is excellent."

"I'm sure; what will you be having?" I asked her. As I looked down at the menu, my thoughts turned quickly from my future to my food. I had not eaten a thing since lunch at the site and I was ravenous.

"The duck is quite good…I just do not know what sort of mood I am in," Bella scanned the menu.

"Excuse me…excuse me…Erik?"

It took me a moment to register that someone was talking to me. I turned and saw Georgette Chevalier coming at me through the dim lighting in the restaurant.

"Georgette?"

She smiled at me, though once her eyes fell on Bella Sigmund her grin grew cold.

"It is a pleasure to see you again," When she spoke her voice was tinged with an icy tone, "We have just had a letter from Gemma. She told us that she is quite well."

"That's excellent." I managed to speak somehow; I had not been expecting to be confronted with the memory of Gemma like this! Of course I still thought about her from time to time but hearing her sister speaking her message of well being gave me a jolt in my stomach.

"I have already written her back…which is a shame because I did not include news of this…_charming_ new development,"

How had I worked myself into this mess? All I had wanted to do was share a quiet dinner with Bella and now I was faced with Georgette and therefore with Gemma! She still had influence, even though she was an ocean away.

Georgette was going to write to Gemma again and tell her that I was eating out with Bella Sigmund. Maybe she had not been angry with me before but now who could tell?

"This is not a _development_," I said quickly, thinking more about pacifying Gemma and Georgette than about Bella's feelings.

"I see," Georgette looked from me to Bella, "Well, I suppose it is none of my business but…Gemma did ask after you Erik," I had never heard my blood pound in my ears so clearly before, "I told her that you were well,"

"Thank…thank you," I stuttered rather foolishly.

"Not at all; you were well, as far as I knew at the time. Now I see that you are very well," Georgette threw another cold look at Bella.

"When are you going to be leaving Deauville?" Bella spoke to Georgette for the first time.

"Tomorrow; after that only the indigent and impoverished will still be here."

Bella looked down at her lap.

"It was nice to see you Erik. If you are in Paris this winter come and see us; Gemma…well, never mind," And with that she left.

Needless to say, this little encounter soured our meal. We ate in relative silence after Georgette departed.

"Erik," Bella spoke to me as we road home, "I am wondering…are you still in love with Gemma Chevalier?"

I thought for a full three minutes before I answered, "I do not know." I still thought about Gemma often, I still missed her dearly even though I knew I had been right in letting her go.

It was too soon I supposed, when I really was honest with myself. The embers of my love for Gemma Chevalier had not yet burn out and turned to dust.

"Will you always be in love with her or…is there a hope for any other woman?" Bella asked me slowly.

"Bella," I turned to her, "Please, I am not as clever as other men may be; why do you ask?"

"I would like to know if I am wasting my time."

"No," I said quickly, and a I got an uplifting feeling in my chest upon learning her true feelings.

Bella smiled and placed her hand over mine for the rest of the ride to her home.

It was the seventh of December, a date that was, for me at least, to go down in history. That very day set in motion events which would change my life forever.

That was the day Bella was scheduled to leave for Paris with the rest of her family. They had stayed much longer than they planned due to some unexpected inclement weather.

I had come to see her off.

"I am going to miss you dearly," Bella and I stood in the foyer of her empty home to say our goodbyes. It was very depressing to me to see her house so emptied of all the things that had made it a home.

She stood across from me in her traveling dress and winter coat. She had clasped my hands in hers. The leather of her gloves felt soft against my skin.

"You will come to Paris won't you?" She asked me.

"I believe so; for the wedding," I had told her many times that Nadir was to be married and that I would be attending the ceremony in Paris. She had never met Nadir and expressed a keen interest in doing so, as he was my closest friend after all.

"Well I shall count the days," Bella smiled. I had come to relish that smile very dearly. She leaned forward and I froze.

In that foyer Bella and I shared our first kiss. It surprised me and thrilled me. I felt a spark run from my lips down to my toes. I had been wanting to kiss her; our time spent together had been increasing rapidly since our dinner outing and upon each meeting I had hoped for this.

I would have stood there and kissed her forever…or at least for another few minutes. Yet that could not be; her family was waiting for her in the carriage.

Once we drew apart she and I walked silently to the carriage and I handed her in.

"Goodbye Erik! I will see you soon! The moment you arrive, you must come and see me! You have the address?"

"I do; I shall see you soon,"

"Goodbye!" She waved at me as the carriage drove away.

I had only a week in Deauville after Bella left. I freely admit that the days could not have passed quickly enough. Deauville was now a lonely, deserted sort of place.

There was something almost eerie about the empty beaches below the gray sky; all the while the slate ocean waves beat their consistent tune that none were left to hear. Deauville had become a ghost.

Perhaps that was why I was so desperate to leave. When I had come to Deauville a year prior, I had been almost a ghost myself. Now I felt like one of the living.

In any case it was with supreme excitement and anticipation that I packed my things over the course of that week before leaving for Paris.

There was not too much to pack; I did not believe I would be needing an extensive wardrobe in Paris. I would not be there with Gemma after all.

It did not trouble me, leaving my house for weeks unattended. I was taking all the funds I had, that were not secured in the bank in town, with me. Save that I had nothing a value in the house that I feared loosing with no possible hope of regaining.

Giovanni would be stabled at the Sigmund barn. Bella's father had been kind enough to make the offer to me. They left their house staff in Deauville for the winter to mind the estate and had a separate one in Paris.

Soon enough all the proper preparations had been made and there was nothing left for me to do but leave.

I picked up my final suitcase and walked out of my home to the carriage that was waiting to take me to the train station. I had discovered that the rail would be a much more practical mode of transportation to take me into Paris than a carriage. I had stayed away from trains in the past; I preferred the seclusion of a private carriage. Now I was simply searching for the fastest way to get to Paris.

As I locked the door I felt a very satisfying sense of closure. I had come to this house hoping never to leave and now I could not wait to get away. If there was a God above, or angels, or any sort of benevolent spirit in the universe I thanked it silently.

The train ride to Paris was an interesting experience. The moment I arrived at the station I thought I might have overestimated my newfound sense of comfort in the public eye. All of the passengers milling about made me thankful I had possessed the foresight at least to rent a private compartment.

I arrived in Paris at night; something I had planned. I was still more comfortable under the cover of darkness.

I peered out of the window as the train entered the city limits. This was the very city I had sworn I would never see again. It looked different to me now than it had on the last occasion I had seen it.

The city was aflame with the bright lights of homes and taverns and cafes. It was a rather splendid sight.

"Erik! Erik there you are!" Once I got off onto the platform I turned to see Nadir calling to me. He was absolutely beaming; being engaged agreed with him.

"Nadir; it is good to see you again old friend," I said as he embraced me.

Two hours later I was settled in Nadir's apartment; the very same room in which I had spent so many miserable months quitting morphine.

"Well," Nadir said to me as we both sat at his kitchen table and he handed me a glass of wine, "How does it feel to be back in Paris?"

"Judging from the few hours I have been here?" Nadir laughed as I said this, "It is just fine; not really the city I remember,"

"Let us hope not," Nadir shook his head, "You know, I did not think I would get you back here,"

"Why ever not?"

"Come now Erik; you forget that I know you! You hate to travel and I did not think you liked Paris,"

"I have…reasons…why this trip was most agreeable,"

"Oh?" Nadir fixed me with a most piercing look, "And what would those be?"

"Nothing _diabolical_ as I can see you are suspecting," I laughed, "I have several reasons; one being that my foolish but faithful friend is finally getting married, and two…Bella Sigmund,"

"Bella Sigmund?" Nadir sounded shocked.

"Yes; I met her after you left. We grew close over a shared love of music…very close,"

Nadir raised his eyebrows, "What about Gemma Chevalier?"

I shook my head, "What can I do? I loved her, and part of my is still in love with her, but I cannot make her happy forever and she cannot make me,"

Nadir nodded, "Erik I must say I am very proud of you. I feared you would never see reason where Gemma Chevalier was concerned. Bella Sigmund…is she any good for you?"

"I believe she is. A bit too young maybe but…she loves music Nadir and she has such a keen talent for it! She is kind and beautiful and I think…I think this courtship could really go somewhere,"

"That is fantastic Erik," Nadir raised his glass, "To you my friend,"

"No no," I shook my head, "You are the one who had managed to secure the love of a woman forever!"

Nadir laughed, "I have to say Erik, I never thought I would marry again. To tell you the truth I am very nervous,"

"I don't see anything to worry about,"

"Well there is the ceremony for one thing; all those people…and I have never seen London before,"

"Yes well…London? Is there where you will be going after you are married?"

"Erik," Nadir spoke very seriously, "Did you not read the last letter I sent you? The ceremony is _in_ London,"

"In London! I had no idea!" I was shocked.

"Yes London! It was all in the last letter I sent you! Most of Victoria's family is from there so it only makes sense as the proper place to hold the ceremony,"

"I never got the letter," I lied. I had received a letter from Nadir concerning the wedding but I had skimmed over some of the details as I had read it late one night after returning from a visit with Bella.

"Oh well…this is quite precarious…we shall be leaving here in four days for London," Nadir shook his head; "You will still come won't you?"

"Yes…I will…of course," I could not renege on my promise now. It was quite off putting to learn that in less than a week I would be traveling to London but still if I had managed to come to Paris how bad could London be? No, the main thing that concerned me was that now I had only a few days with Bella before I would be parted from her again.

This ultimatum in mind I went to the Sigmund residence the first thing the next morning. It was very strange to be walking around the streets of Paris again; especially in the daylight hours.

More than once I saw passersby glance quizzically in my direction. I ignored them as best I could; each time someone looked at my mask I repeated the thoughts; yes, but I was once the lover of Gemma Chevalier! It was a childish thing to think of, especially as I was on my way to see Bella Sigmund, yet for my own pride it served its purpose.

The Sigmund household in Paris was quite lovely. I suspected it was built at about the same time as my beloved Paris Opera as the architecture reflected the Neo-Baroque style.

"Oh Erik!" Bella embraced me as I walked in her door, "You are here at last! I thought you would never come!"

I laughed, "It had scarcely been a week since the last time I saw you,"

"I know," She smiled at me, kissing me swiftly on the cheek and sending a chill up and down my spine, "But I cannot help it if I miss you can I?"

"I shan't fault you for it," I teased her.

"I do enjoy your humor Erik," Bella took my hand, "Come; brunch is already set in the library,"

Bella took me to the upper floor of the household. She opened an oak door and I found myself in a large room with shelves to the ceiling, all packed with books. There was a bay window at the far end which looked out on the main streets below.

There was a cart laden with delicious looking pastries, cheeses, fresh bread, and jams to name a few things. As the room was now deserted I assumed that the other members of the Sigmund family had already eaten.

It was a most inviting scene; sunlight was streaming though the large window and the whole room looked so bright and peaceful. I could not have imagined a better way to spend my morning.

"How was your trip here?" Bella asked me once we had settled down with our plates in the bay window.

"Very well; the train was a much better idea than a carriage,"

"What are your plans now that you are here?" Bella asked me.

I waited a moment as I took a bite of one of the pastries. They were just as delicious as they looked.

"Well as chance would have it, I am only here for four days before I am going to London,"

"London! Whatever for?"

"Nadir is going to be married in London as his bride to be is half English,"

"Victoria Ward isn't it?"

"Yes! How do you know that? Did I tell you?"

"No I read it in the news,"

"Why on earth was it in the news?"

Bella shook her head, "I do not know; they usually print news of engagements and weddings; I suppose someone thought it was an important story,"

"I suppose," I began to wonder; no one would think that the engagement of Nadir Kahn and Victoria Ward was a matter of interest. I loved Nadir dearly and from what I knew of Victoria she was a very sweet girl but they were not wealthy or famous or any other thing that might draw the attention of the press. Someone would have had to suggest it. Gemma?

"Erik…there is something I need to ask you,"

Her voice was rather serious and I was concerned, "What is it Bella?"

"Erik, to be quite honest with you I find myself…well, very taken by you but…there is one thing I want to ask you…and I will understand completely if you do not want to tell me,"

"Bella, whatever it is, just ask me," Although I already had a feeling what she would say.

"Why do you wear that mask Erik?"

They were the words I was expecting. Usually I became wildly offended when someone dared to ask me why I wore it but somehow Bella's words did not aggravate me. I knew that if I refused to tell her she would not press the matter and I could understand her curiosity. She had been so kind to me I disregarded the idea that she might have some kind of malicious intent or that she might flee from me.

"That question requires a very long answer Bella,"

"I understand; you do not have to tell me,"

"You must know Bella, that this is an extremely sensitive subject for me,"

Bella nodded. I sighed; I knew that eventually it would come to this.

"You see Bella; I was born with…a rather unfortunate blemish on the side of my face," I knew that was the greatest understatement of my life.

"Your face is…malformed then?" Bella asked me quietly.

I nodded, finding that I could not look at her for a few moments.

"Erik," Bella set down her plate and moved closer to me, "It does not make a difference to me; I just do not want there to be anything between us; I just want to know everything about you because…I care about you,"

She placed her fingers under my chin and turned my face toward hers. I watched her close her eyes and press her lips to mine before I shut my eyes as well and simply enjoyed her kiss. It was not our first kiss, but it was our longest and most passionate.

When she pulled away she had a question for me.

"Erik would you escort me to the opera tomorrow night? There is a new show opening and I would dearly like to see it,"

"Of course," I would have done anything she asked me to at that moment.

"You are going _where_?" Nadir looked incredulously at me as I readied myself the following evening.

"Nadir you heard me perfectly clearly,"

"Yes I did, but I am hoping against hope that I was mistaken,"

"Well then I am truly sorry to crush your hope but I was quite serious when I told you that I would be attending the opera tonight,"

"Erik! You cannot possibly believe that this is a sound idea can you?"

I buttoned the final button on my white dress shirt and threw my black overcoat over my shoulders. I had brought but one dress suit with me to Paris which meant that I had to take care; this was the same attire I would wear to Nadir's wedding.

"What is going to happen Nadir? Someone will tap my shoulder and say, by Jove, aren't you the Phantom? Or that I will take one look at that dazzling chandelier and not be able to control myself? Honestly Nadir do you take me for some kind of idiot?"

"Sometimes I believe that word to be quite fitting for you," Nadir said darkly, "I just have a bad feeling about this, that is all,"

"Well forgive me if I do not spoil my evening because you have a feeling," I said grumpily.

The truth was I had more than a little feeling myself. I was nervous; it was as though I were a criminal who had barely escaped the first time and was now returning to the scene of the crime.

Still I did not want to live my life in complete fear; if I ever wanted a normal relationship with anyone I would have to become as close to a normal man as I could.

With these thoughts firmly in my mind I went to the Sigmund residence to pick Bella up. She kept me waiting only a few moments before she came down to meet me.

What was it that these women did to themselves when they readied for a night out? Bella looked more beautiful than I had ever seen her before. Her hair was swept back, only a few strategic tendrils escaped her bun. Suddenly I had a flash back to my first 'date' with Gemma, when she had warn her hair that way. I dismissed that thought however and focused on Bella.

"You look lovely," I told her.

She smiled, "Thank you Erik; you look very nice yourself,"

I flagged down a carriage in the street and we were off. I was glad for the cool air that night; otherwise I was sure Bella would have noticed my sweating. I was nervous; whatever I had told Nadir. I did not really know what could go wrong, but in the bottom of my stomach I felt that something would.

The moment the façade of the Paris Opera appeared in front of me as the carriage rounded a corner a torrent of memories crashed over me. Bella was quiet, for which I was glad because I do not think I could have formed words at that moment.

So many moments, days, years of my life had been spent, no wasted, under the eves of the opera house. I had promised myself that I would never return and now I remembered why. Just seeing the magnificent building brought to mind all the anger, the pain and madness which had festered like a dark cloud in my heart. Suddenly I felt as though I could not breathe properly.

As we alighted the carriage we managed to blend in with the rest of the opera goers. Bella was clearly not the high profile Parisian that would attract attention, though the guests of the opera that night were not all without notoriety.

Georgette Chevalier had arrived with a few companions and was causing a bit of a stir. Clearly having such a famous sister came with a heightened social status.

Still as we moved up the steps and in to the opera I did hear some whispering about myself and Bella Sigmund; I assumed my relationship with Gemma had not been forgotten.

Bella said nothing to me as we walked. I had appreciated this in the carriage but now I wanted her to say something, anything to distract me from the fact that more and more people took notice of the two of us.

Perhaps it was not true but I felt as though every pair of eyes in the opera were staring at me, burning holes right though me.

Once we were inside there was no relief for me; I seemed to catch more whispers as I passed.

We climbed the grand stair case and I could not wait for the seclusion of a private box and the dimming of the lights. I was in a trance, thinking only of reaching our seats, which may explain why I did nothing to prevent it from happening. I never even saw it coming.

There was a sudden rush of air against the side of my face…the wrong side of my face…

I looked and there was Bella Sigmund, starring at me in horror; my mask was in her hand.

I heard the screams around me, the people turning to see what the fuss was all about and then screaming is shock themselves. Yet I did not see any of them at first. All I could do was gape at Bella.

The horror in her eyes had turned to a cold but pleased glint.

"This!" She cried out for all the room to hear, "This is who the great Gemma Chevalier said she loved! What a fool she was; how embarrassed, how mortified she must have been when she found out!"

It had all been a lie; a way to get revenge on Gemma and myself for the piano contest. She had humiliated me and embarrassed Gemma by exposing me.

I felt like a trapped animal; I did not know what to do. I wanted to scream at her, but more than that I just wanted to run. The room had become my own personal nightmare. Everywhere women were gasping as their men told them to look away.

I fled like a beaten dog, my hand over my face. I felt sick and all I could think about was getting air and darkness, so that I could breathe again. Foolishly I ran for the front door, being confronted with more than a few cameras as I made my escape. I could not help but think that one of them got a photo of my terrifying face.

With all the strength left in me I ran until I had carried myself far from the opera and into a dingy, dank section of Paris. I found a dark alley and ducked in to it. I became physically ill and doubled over.

At last I let the emotions out of me. I cried like a child. My heart hurt with the betrayal I had suffered. Bella Sigmund had disguised her hate with love and concocted this elaborate scheme to revenge herself against Gemma. No doubt it would not been good for her image if it was known that she had loved a monster.

Bella had done her job well. She had gained my trust with amazing ease and she had found out what lay behind my mask. I had openly told her! I had practically done her treacherous work for her! And she had waited for the perfect moment, luring me to the opera and then waiting until we were in full view of the room.

The shock of what she had done and the screams of the people around me would haunt me for life. In the alley I sank down and covered my face with my hands. Though it was quiet I could still hear the shrieking in the opera house.

My heart was broken once again. I was such a fool! How could I have believed that I could make a life for myself among the people of Paris? I should have stayed away where I belonged!

And Bella! I had thought I could marry her and live with her in Deauville! All the while she had planned my ruin.

I sat for hours in the alley. I decided to leave for Deauville on the next train…no carriage! I could never be in a public place again!

I would have just taken the money I had with me and hired out a carriage that instant but I felt obliged to tell Nadir why I was not coming to his wedding. Though I was sure he might guess after he saw the newspaper in the coming week.

My hand still over my face I trudged back to Nadir's home and opened the door.

"What happened?" Nadir asked as I walked in. I was covered in slim and sweat; I had ruined the suit I was to wear to his wedding, not that I would be attending in any case.

"Bella; she didn't love me," I spoke heavily. I felt like a beaten solider exchanging a few last words with his comrade before death. "She used me to get revenge on Gemma, and on myself for teaching her I suppose."

"Erik," Nadir spoke sorrowfully to me, "Come sit down," I assumed he could reason out what had happened. I did not have my mask and he knew I would not take it off willingly. That would be another problem; that was the only mask I had brought to Pairs. Now what was I to do?

Nadir led me to his sofa and I sat down. He sat across from me in a chair. Neither of us spoke; what was there to say? I had suffered the ultimate betrayal and heartbreak. I was giving up life and removing myself from all human contact and Nadir knew it.

After about half an hour of silence there was a knock at the door. Nadir stood and answered it.

"Oh! Well what are you doing here?" I heard Nadir ask. I could not tell who was there and I wondered if it was Bella coming to gloat.

To my utter surprise and confusion Georgette Chevalier stepped into Nadir's apartment. She was still dressed in her opera attire and looked quite out of place in Nadir's simple home. Moreover, I had no idea what she could be doing there. Had she come to tell me how I had ruined her family's reputation?

"There you are! A friend of a friend of a friend of somebody told me the address of this apartment. If you weren't here I do not know how I could have found you," Her tone was quite brisk as she entered.

"Here, I retrieved this for you," Georgette did not give me or Nadir time to react to her sudden intrusion before she stepped into the living room and sat down across from me. She handed me my mask.

I knew I should have thanked her but I was still too shocked, and further too emotionally drained, to say a word.

She waited to speak as I turned away and placed the mask over the side of my face. I silently vowed that it would never come off again even if I was alone in the dark.

Georgette looked at me with something like pity in her eyes and sighed, "Bella did an awful thing to you tonight Erik. I never did like her; she has always been furiously jealous of Gemma and of myself; that was why I was so cold to her the evening I saw you two in Deauville."

I snorted, "I should have guessed what she was up to. How could I have thought she actually cared for me?" I knew Georgette probably did not care either but I could not keep the words inside.

Georgette shook her head, "I knew what your face looked like Erik, even before tonight."

Amazed I stared straight at her, "How?"

"Gemma did not tell me; if that is what you are thinking," She was not afraid to look me in the eye as she spoke, "I went to the site one afternoon this summer; you did not notice me. I believe you were too involved with Gemma at the time. In any case, it must have been too hot, because your mask slipped a bit. You caught it right away and no one else noticed but even for that second, even standing as far off as I was, I caught a glimpse and that was enough."

I looked down. I felt a sudden heat of shame rise onto my face; even at a distance people knew I was hideous. I could sometimes forget just how much of a monster I was…and then something like this would happen, just to remind me. I could recall a few times when the sweat on my face had caused my mask to slip; I thought I had been careful…not careful enough.

"I confronted Gemma about the matter later," Georgette continued, "I asked her if she knew and she said she did. I asked her if she was embarrassed or ashamed and she slapped me."

I offered a hollow laugh at that but my eyes remained on my hands in my lap.

"I have never seen Gemma as angry as when I said that and I have seen her temper flare many times," Georgette went on, "She told me that anyone who dismissed or shunned a person because of some twisted flesh was a fool and anyone who gave up love because of it was an idiot."

"Why are you telling me this?" I asked in a dead tone.

"She is not going to stand for this," Georgette said ominously, "Bella Sigmund is going to curse the day she was borne by the end."

"Do you really think that matters to me?" I asked fiercely, "Bella has turned me into a social pariah for life. Do you honestly believe that seeing Bella herself humiliated will make me feel any better about being a casualty of war in this society battle?"

Georgette shook her head, "You mean more to Gemma than you think. She will return soon and then you will see. In the mean time, I think you are planning on running from this?"

"Yes,"

"Don't," She offered me a small smiled, "Bella may have triumphed for the moment but your situation is not so dire as you think. You need not remove yourself from the company of others. I was not the only one at the opera tonight who believed Bella acted in bad taste."

"Why are you telling me all of this?" I asked her sharply. From that moment on I promised myself to be overly suspicious of everyone. "Why do you want to help me? You do not even like your sister."

"Oh dear," Georgette smiled wider at me now as she stood from her chair. I had to look up at her; she had the height that ran in her family. "Bella has really ruined your trust hasn't she? Well you have the right to question me I suppose. Whatever I say I love my sister; she may be proud and mean at times but I look up to her. She is a stronger woman than many. Gemma told me that few people are worth your time and compassion, but that you were."

She spoke no more to me. She turned politely to Nadir, "I am sorry to have intruded so; you have a lovely home. Good night," Then she was gone.

My head was pounding and on the verge of explosion. Everyone I had believed to be an enemy was now a friend and the woman I had thought I could make my bride was now my enemy. I felt beaten and humiliated still; the screams at the opera still echoed in my head.

Buzzing as my mind was I heard Nadir ask me what I was going to do.

"Sleep," I said warily, "I need sleep."

Though all I wanted was the sweet release of slumber it was loath to come to me. Too many thoughts swirled through my mind.

Bella Sigmund was a conniving little actress and she had played me for a fool.

The screaming voices resounded over and over again in my mind.

Georgette Chevalier had come to me…telling me there was hope still…but what hope had there ever been for me?

All totaled I woke from a restless sleep before the sun broke over the rim of the world. I sat at Nadir's kitchen table drumming my fingers absently against the wood.

"You did not sleep well?" Nadir's voice startled me out of my trance some time later. I noticed that weak winter sun rays were peaking in through the windows.

"No," I said shortly.

"Erik…I think Georgette was right," Nadir said after hesitating a few moments, "Please, don't leave Paris,"

"Why?" I asked in a cold, lifeless tone.

"Erik you have come so far! I would hate to see you lose your way now,"

It suddenly became clear to me what he meant.

"Have I come so far? I spent a year trying to live like a normal man and I wound up back in Paris in a curiously similar situation."

"Erik—"

"Yes I know that is not what you mean. I did think, last night, about finding some morphine. I cannot deny that the urge was very strong. You need not worry though; I shan't begin that habit again."

Nadir looked considerably relieved, "Good; do I have your word?"

"You do,"

"Good…Erik I know it is hard but I would still like you to come to the wedding,"

"I've ruined my only suit,"

"We shall get you a new one,"

"In three days?"

Nadir shrugged, "It's possible. Besides, I do not care if you attend in what you are wearing right now! I would just like you to be there. It will get you out of Paris."

"Yes, and into London. Tell me this Nadir, while you are making final preparations for the wedding and enjoying your wife, what am I to do? Stand in the corner and watch like a vapor?"

Nadir looked as though this thought had never occurred to him.

"I am sure you would find something to do with yourself! And I am not to see Victoria until the wedding day! I will not be as busy as you seem to believe,"

"Well…I cannot go in this," I motioned to my sleeping attire, "I would need a suit,"

"I am sure we could do something,"

Suddenly I was overwhelmed with a desire to act; I had sat long enough. My mind felt so cluttered I was desperate to clear it. Wordlessly I left Nadir in the kitchen and went to my own room. I dressed myself in a matter of moments.

"I am going out. I shall return soon," That was all I said to Nadir as I threw my coat on and left.

It was not fair; it was just not fair that every time I tried to take control of my life and actually have one I was denied. I had done nothing wrong; at least not this time and it was not fair that I should be so chased away from society.

It was not that I had any great love for society, but would it be asking too much to be able to walk outside without fear of rejection?

So to hell with all of them; Nadir was my closest, really only, friend. Despite my own failures in the world of love I was happy for him. He deserved happiness after all he had been through. I would not embarrass him or his bride by attending their wedding in an ugly old suit.

Gemma had told me once where she lived in Paris and I thanked my mind for not addling completely. I remembered quite well the address she had given me.

However, when I arrived I thought I must have been mistaken. This could not possibly be the grand home of the Chevalier family? It was a beautiful building to be sure but it was an apartment building.

Still I entered and walked across the small lobby.

"Can I help you?" There was a booth in the lobby in which a man stood. Behind him I could see slots where mail for the tenants was kept. This man addressed me now.

"Yes, I am looking for the Chevalier family,"

He looked confused, "Well, Mademoiselle Gemma Chevalier lets one of the apartments but the family does not live here,"

I sighed in frustration as though this fact was this man's fault, "Then can you tell me where I would find them?"

"Of course," The man took out a small piece of paper and scribbled an address on it which I took quickly. I believed my mask and my agitated manner scared him into giving out the location.

I set off again. I was still in such a bad mood I did not even notice the people walking around me though I was sure my appearance did not go unnoticed by them.

When I found the house I was looking for I knew immediately I was in the right place. I had never seen such an opulent façade on a house. I could imagine that Count Chevalier would be satisfied with nothing less.

I knocked on the door with all the confidence of a man who is so frustrated with the world around him he hardly cares about its rules.

My knock was answered by another snooty butler. Not the same man I had come to know and love in Deauville of course; I assumed the Chevalier family left their servants there for the winter.

The man did not ask how he could help me or even let me come in but rather he waited for me to speak.

"I am here to see Georgette Chevalier," I said briskly.

"Erik?" I heard her voice from inside the house and she came to the door, slightly pushing the butler aside, "What are you doing here?"

"I need a suit," I told her simply, "And I need it by tomorrow preferably."

"I see," Georgette did not hesitate, "I am getting my coat." She was gone for only a moment before she returned with her winter cape and she stepped outside of the doorway.

"What shall I tell the Count and Countess?" The butler addressed Georgette in a slightly distressed tone.

"Tell the Count that the hat he bought the Countess is hideous," Georgette threw this sarcastic comment over her shoulder as she hurried down the walkway.

"I did not mean that you had to come with me," I told her, "I only thought you could tell me where to go."

"I know but you said you wanted this thing done quickly and I can help you there more than you can help yourself. Besides, I am dreadfully bored and I could do with some activity."

"You Chevalier girls should really pick up hobbies and stop following me around every time you feel restless," Gemma had come to the site out of boredom.

Georgette laughed, "I do needlepoint; somehow it is never as rewarding as one would wish,"

"Shocking,"

Georgette laughed again, "That is exactly what Gemma would have said."

"She is the sarcastic type,"

"That is putting it mildly,"

We took a carriage to the tailor shop Georgette had in mind. When I had lived at the opera house I had secured a way of getting new, well made suits and I did remember the name of that shop. The place Georgette took me to was not the same one.

"Good day," A man addressed us as we entered.

"Georgette Chevalier," Georgette wasted no time on subtly as she introduced herself. I could see the man's eyes spark with recognition at her name. "My dear friend Erik Bonheur needs a suit for a wedding, and he needs it by yesterday so promptness will be rewarded."

"Of course," The man practically jumped into action, "Monsieur Bonheur if you would just come with me we can take your measurements."

I was led into the back of the shop and Georgette waited in the front of the store.

"Are you a friend of the Chevalier family?" He asked me as he motioned for several other workers to come over and help him. In a few seconds I had three people taking my inseam, my shoulder width, and my waist size.

"Not really," I thought I might as well be honest, "Gemma Chevalier and I were…romantically involved for a time but the Count and Countess are not very fond of me."

The man laughed, "Well if you are lucky enough to befriend the daughters…that is really all you need isn't it?"

I snorted and said nothing. I supposed he had a point.

In no time at all I was finished and on my way out with the promise that the suit would be ready in only a day; everyone would be pulled off of their prior projects to work on mine.

"Your name certainly inspires accommodation in there," I told Georgette as we left.

"Gemma has given this place a lot of business over the years. She recommends it to everyone; they should be thankful."

"It seems rather pathetic to me; they were so desperate to please."

Georgette shook her head, "They have to be. Gemma is a main source of business for them. If they loose her they loose money. Listen Erik I know there is a chance this will be awkward since I do not know you very well but what would you say to lunch? There is a really lovely café round the corner. It is one of Gemma's favorite places."

"I suppose," I was not very keen on the idea but I was there and I had not eaten since lunch the day before so my stomach would not allow me to pass over the opportunity.

My rotten mood from the morning was beginning to wear off and so was the protection it gave me. Now I noticed the odd looks I was given as Georgette and I entered the café. I wondered how many of them knew about the incident at the opera.

"Are you alright?" Georgette asked me in a brazen voice as she studied my uncomfortable air.

"As much as I can be I suppose,"

"I see,"

"I have to wonder Georgette; why are you being so kind to me?"

"I was not aware that I was being overly kind,"

"You did not have to do any of this; come with me to the tailor and now lunch. You are not lacking in companions, why waste your time with me?" After Bella Sigmund I doubted I could ever trust a woman again. I did however remember that Georgette was still a young woman, despite her looks and manners. I would not be too hard on her.

Georgette set down her menu and sighed, "I suppose I feel I owe it to Gemma. She really does care for you quite a lot."

"I did not think you two were close. Gemma never gave me that impression."

"That is just the way she is. Can I tell you a story Erik?"

I nodded.

"Well when we were very young we had a governess to take care of us. Mother had more important matters to attend to than the rearing of her own children. Anyway; we had a rotten mean old woman who minded us. I'll never forget it; one afternoon I spilled ink on the rug in one of the sitting rooms. To punish me that wicked Madame Masure locked me in the attic."

I shivered involuntarily. I had been locked in basements and in attics for punishment myself. I knew it was not a pleasant experience.

"Being trapped in there would have been bad enough," Georgette continued, "But to make matters worse I used to believe the attic was haunted. I was distraught; screaming for help. I truly believed there was something else in there with me. I knew that Gemma sometimes snuck around and scared us; which she did quite affectively; but everyone suspected there was some presence lurking in the attic."

It was amazing how her story called to me, bringing to mind my own childhood memories. I sympathized with her; I knew what it was to be alone and frightened. Georgette went on with her story.

"I was in there for what felt like hours, crying and scared out of my mind. Gemma finally burst in and rescued me. She had been out somewhere; she was older than I so she had more freedom. She took me to my room and clamed me down…told me I was safe and not to worry."

"What happened when your governess found you were not in the attic?"

"Well she heard Gemma and I in my room and she tried to take me back into the attic. Gemma would not allow it though. She told Masure that if she laid one hand on me she would have her fired. I was young but I remember how furious Gemma was and how fearlessly she confronted Masure. Ever since then I have been loyal to her; she always helps the people who she is close to."

"So to you, being kind to me is repaying her?"

"Exactly…and I know she would have my head if she found I had been among those who mistreated you."

I laughed mirthlessly, "If Gemma wishes to hunt down everyone who has mistreated me than I hope she has a lot of time on her hands."

"She does," Georgette said in a serious tone, "And social dynamics is her business."

"How fortunate for me."

"I am going to accept your sarcastic and bitter demeanor as part of your general charm," Georgette laughed at me.

"_That_ sounds like something Gemma would say," I said, and Georgette looked supremely flattered.

"Thank you," She sipped her water, "You know I think I owe you an apology. The first time I met you I believe I was rather brazen about the…" She pointed to the masked side of my face.

I shook my head, "I had forgotten; there is no need for apology. I am the one who owes you a debt for bringing it back."

Georgette laughed, "It was my supreme pleasure to rip it out of Bella Sigmund's hand."

"I wish I had seen that."

"Do not worry; Gemma is going to rip her heart out of her chest and I am sure she will allow you to observe."

"When is Gemma going to return?"

I asked the question innocently enough but it still garnered me a wide grin from Georgette.

"Do you want to see her?" She asked with the coyest of smiles on her lips.

"Well I…" Not for the first time I felt trapped in a conversation of my own making. I was not the topic manipulator that Gemma or even Georgette was. I could not speak with tact or bend and direct objects of conversation in the way that suited me. I had no idea how to mask my wishes in round about questions and prodding.

I did want to see Gemma again. I wanted to ask her why our relationship had not gone up in smoke.

"Yes…I mean…I would not object to seeing her again. If I should be in the same place as her and she was not busy I…if we just, ran in to each other you know."

Georgette smiled and shook her head, "So you want me to tell you where she will be and when she is coming back so the two of you can have a spontaneous reunion?"

"That…would be nice, I think." I knew she was on to me so I thought it best to drop all pretense, "Do you know if she…wants to see me?"

"Oh! Worried she has forgotten all about you in New York?"

"Well, I am sure she has been quite busy…I would not blame her if she…"

"Gemma has written to me three times; which is three times more than she ever has before, and each time she asked after you. I do not think she would be apposed to seeing you."

My heart had felt very heavy since the moment Bella had pulled the mask off of my face but this news did a lot to lift my spirits.

"So when will she be back?"

"Soon,"

"When?"

"Very soon,"

"Be less specific Georgette. There are three hundred and sixty days in the year and I do not want you to make it too easy for me to guess on which one Gemma will be returning."

Georgette laughed, "Oh Erik you are funny! I see why Gemma enjoys talking to you so much. I cannot tell you exactly when she will return but I will say that she will probably find you before you know it."

I did not quite know what to make of this, so I let it be.

My lunch with Georgette had put me in a better mood but this upturn in emotions was quickly crushed.

I went to pick up my suit the day before Nadir and I were to leave for London. On the way I passed a group of men standing on the street reading a newspaper.

"Wait! Wait I think that is him!" I heard on of them say as I neared. With a kind of sick delight and malice one of them shoved the paper he had been reading in my face. "That is you isn't it?"

I could not hide my horror and humiliation as the picture met my eyes.

As I had suspected the eager photographers had snapped a perfect shot of me running from the opera like a scared, wounded animal. This had made its way into the paper along with a story, no doubt eagerly researched and then shamelessly twisted. I did not read the thing, but the words 'freak,' 'monster' and of course 'Gemma Chevalier' jumped out at me.

Without a word to these men I continued on my way. They were determined however to get something out of me. They followed me all the way to the tailor shop, saying anything to provoke me.

"Is the other half of your face really just a skull?"

"Do women drop dead at the sight of you?"

"Must be hard for you to get one into bed!"

"Maybe he doesn't mind if they are dead or alive."

I did not know what to do. I could not kill them all in the street; too many potential witnesses for one thing. For another there were four of them and only one of me. I did not like those odds.

It was a great relief when I reached the tailor shop. I approached the man behind the counter; the very same gentleman who had greeted Georgette and I on our first visit.

I did not look him in the eye. I was afraid to see in his expression that look of fear mixed with disgust which so often accompanied the sight of my unmasked face. I assumed this man would have had to have seen the paper by now.

"Were those men giving you a hard time?" He asked me in a low voice.

I looked up in surprise.

"Those men out there; I saw them following you," He continued, "They moved off now thought, do not worry."

"I was not worried," I said huffily.

"May I make a suggestion monsieur?" He ignored my pride, "Get their names."

"What?"

"Their names! I think I saw one of them working in the print shop down the street once. You could go there and ask. After that I am sure you could discover the identity of the rest easily enough."

"Why on earth would I want to do that?" I was utterly bewildered.

"To give them to Mademoiselle Gemma when she returns!"

"I do not need her to protect me against these men," I had exacted revenge all by myself for years thank you very much!

The man shook his head, "I suspect you don't Monsieur. You look as though you could give them a good thrashing. But if you want to really give them their just rewards, give their names to Gemma."

"And what will Gemma do? Have them killed?"

I said it in jest but the look in the man's eyes told me that he did not consider it out of the realm of possibilities.

On my way back to Nadir's apartment I was recognized and shouted at several more times. By the time I returned home I was ready to track down every citizen of Paris with a newspaper and have them drawn and quartered.

I was glad to leave Paris. Once again I found myself swearing I would never return. I had imagined this trip very differently when I had anxiously awaited it in Deauville. I had pictured myself a stronger, more confident man coming back to Paris fearless of the past.

Now I was leaving the same defeated, pathetic mess I had been a year ago.

As we journeyed to London I had to note the eerie similarity between the weather outside and my own mood. Both were covered in a deep, foggy haze.

The trip itself took a week. From Paris we traveled north to Calais. There we boarded a ferry which carried us over the turbulent English Channel. The way the small boat was tossed in the angry gray blue waves I never thought we would make it but eventually we arrived in Dover unscathed.

After one night and one questionable hotel and some very questionable drinks we went west toward London.

Nadir was becoming noticeably edgy and tense. He did not say much to me but when he did it was usually in excited bursts in which he conveyed a great deal of nonsensical and irrelevant thoughts in a short amount of time.

I found it very hard to be happy for Nadir and not simply jealous of him and this thought made me feel even worse than I did already.

Nadir deserved this while I, apparently, did not.

Keeping in mind all Nadir had done for me, which was truly nothing short of saving my life both in Persia and in Paris, I did my best to keep my mood from being openly bitter.

We arrived in London in the dark night hours. As luck would have it the air was thick with snow so I knew there would be no one to recognize me. No one would be out in the blizzard. I also suspected that the story about me had only been printed in Paris and news of it would not have reached London.

I was utterly exhausted. As an early gift to Nadir, and with some of my own interests in mind, I offered up the money for two rooms at a very nice hotel called The Connaught. I could tell that the concierge was not too keen on having us as guests but he did not turn my money away. I had to wonder though how long it would be before I was asked to leave. When I had been staying in apartments in Paris the record had been two weeks before I was kicked out on the street.

As he had promised me, Nadir was not busy for our first few days in London with wedding preparations. In accordance with the customs of future brides and grooms, Victoria was entrusted with all the plans. Nadir's only job was to show up.

However the weather prevented us from venturing very far in London; over the course of two days it hardly stopped snowing. The only time we left was to attend a rehearsal of the wedding. I was to be in the actual ceremony; a terrifying detail Nadir had not informed me of. It was not as bad as it might have been however; all I had to do was stand in place. The ceremony was done in a Protestant church; no one was talking about the fact that Nadir himself was actually Muslim.

No, the worst thing was that at the rehearsal I really did receive a preview of how the wedding and reception would be. Nadir was occupied with Victoria and with all of her relatives. I was left to myself, which was fortunate I suppose as I was not much good at conversation. Still I felt a certain sting as I stood alone and watched life happening around me.

All in all I was coming to dread this wedding. I found out the morning of the event however that I was not the only one…

"Erik, I can not do it," Nadir barged into my room on the morning of his wedding day to tell me this. "I can't do it!"

Grudgingly I sat up and rubbed the eye on the unmasked side of my face. I had not taken off the mask even to sleep since the opera house.

I checked the large face of the grandfather clock across from my bed, "Nadir it is five in the morning!"

"Erik I have made an awful mistake; I can't go through with this! I am not meant to be married again."

"Nadir what in hell are you talking about? Do you know how fortunate you are that a beautiful woman like Victoria loves you enough to actually want to spend the rest of her life with you? I would give anything to be so lucky!" Perhaps I could mask my face, but it was too early in the morning for masking my bitterness.

"What if I fail her Erik?" Nadir ignored my anger, "I was not a good husband before; what has changed?"

Suddenly I felt my anger ebbing. All this time I had believed that Nadir was nervous about committing himself to one woman and taking on the responsibilities of marriage; those petty worries I believed plagued grooms to be.

I realized now it was not that at all. Nadir's first wife and son had both died tragically and long before their time. I had not known how ardently he blamed himself for these things.

"Nadir…it was not your fault…it wasn't. There was nothing you could have done."

"What if everything goes wrong again? What if I ruin her life?" He sat down heavily on the end of my bed.

"Nadir," I sighed, "You are a good friend of mine but you are an idiot if you think that by marrying Victoria you could ever ruin her life. You are the most kind, understanding, caring person I have ever met. If you really lover her, I do not see how this union could go wrong."

Nadir stared at his hands for a few minutes before answering, "Thank you friend."

"Yes yes I know; I provide astounding advice and wisdom," I grumped at him and Nadir laughed, "Now go away! I am going back to sleep."

"I can't sleep; I am anticipating today too much."

"Try."

"Come on Erik; aren't you going to keep me company?"

"No."

"Please I need someone to talk to! I would do it for you."

"Than you are kinder than I,"

"Fine; sleep if you must!"

Nadir left me to my sleep but I found that even though the warm bed was more agreeable I could not sleep. My mind told me that as his best man, my duty was to help the groom.

Groggily and still more than half asleep I stumbled out to join Nadir in his room.

"Is there coffee anywhere in this godforsaken place?" I asked as I opened his door.

"There is tea,"

I shook my head. I knew the day would not prove favorable to me.

At a much more decent hour Nadir and I left the hotel for the church. Though everything was going smoothly, it had even stopped snowing; I felt a sense of impending doom.

Nadir was more jumpy than ever but also completely silent. His leg shook like mad and he wrung his hands all the way to the church but he said nothing.

We arrived on time and took our places at the front of the church. It was not an overly grand congregation that attended the wedding but it was still a decent number of people. To stand in front of them was unnerving for me. I could feel all of their eyes on me, judging me, wondering about who I was.

When Victoria entered the church however I knew that no one's eyes were on me. She looked stunning in her white dress; like an angel. I looked over at Nadir; his eyes were glowing. I told myself that I needed to feel happy for him; he was my best friend and he wanted this more than anything.

But damn it how could he find true love twice in one lifetime and I was yet to find it once! Why was it that he was able to meet and marry a woman in the span of six months while I had only managed to get my heart broken!

Victoria reached Nadir and he took her hands. They turned toward the priest.

I realized that perhaps more than feeling bitter because Nadir was in love, what bothered me was that Victoria would be taking him away from me. I was now the lone bachelor. He was going to move to London and start a family. What time would he have left to help his sad, deformed, pathetic friend?

Standing in that church filled with people and with feelings of love and happiness I felt more alone and depressed than I had in years.

Afterward there was to be a reception at the Ward household. I knew I could just leave and return to the hotel; no one was paying any mind to me as they followed the new husband and wife out of the church. Why on earth would they? This was their day not mine.

Still I felt that it was my duty to at least make an appearance at the rehearsal. I owed it to Nadir. My cynical feelings aside I still considered Nadir a great friend and I did not want to ruin this day for him with my own dark mood.

I went to the Ward home in a carriage by myself. I entered the moderately sized but very festively decorated house and was given a drink and then left alone. I stood in a corner and sipped my gin. I decided that I would finish my drink; congratulate the happy couple, and then leave.

Needless to say I rather hurried to empty my glass. After that task was completed I moved off to find Nadir and Victoria Kahn.

They were in the main living room surrounded by well wishers. Victoria had her arm though Nadir's and the two of them looked like the perfect picture of domestic happiness. I felt a sick twisting in my stomach which I attributed to the rapid downing of the gin and not to my slight resentment of Nadir's joy.

As I approached him he and Victoria turned away from their other guests for a moment.

"Are you leaving?" Nadir asked me expectedly. He knew my moods and I was sure he more than understood my feelings. By his tone however it was clear to me that he did not really want me to go.

"Yes; it was a…very nice ceremony," I said awkwardly, knowing that more than a few other party goers were listening to our exchange. "But I think I should be getting back to the hotel."

"Of course," Nadir said kindly, and then added in a lower tone, "Thank you for coming Erik. I know it was hard for you but…it really meant a lot to me that you were here."

I shook me head, "I wouldn't miss it." I turned to Victoria, "Congratulations."

With that I left them. I tried as best I could to weave my way through the guests without knocking the drink out of someone's hand. There were a great deal of people there; more than had attended the ceremony. I suspected that neighbors who had been more interested in food and drink than vows and prayers had found their way into the house.

It was very noisy as well. Someone had brought a violin and another giddy guest had taken the piano keys and they were beginning a very out of tune, very drunken concert.

I was almost to the door when a very familiar voice cut through the din.

"Leaving already? I might have known."

I felt as shocked and stunned as if I had opened a door and found another world. This was impossible was it not?

"You know me; I was never one for parties." I said.

"I am not really in the mood either. Would you be so kind as to take me home?"

"Always a lady aren't you?"

"I am your lady."

"For tonight,"

Gemma leaned in to me, "For always," She said, those beautiful green and blue eyes looked seductively up at me.

At least for the moment that was all I needed to hear. To tell the truth I was ready to take her the moment I saw her.


	36. A Return

My heart; my life felt so empty I needed someone. I needed a relief from the pain and loneliness I had been feeling. Regardless of the consequences I took Gemma's hand and led her out to the street.

It had begun to snow again. Large white flakes raced through the air as if they were trying to see who could cover the ground the fastest. A bitter wind blew them off course and into our eyes as I tried to flag down a carriage.

Eventually one stopped for us.

"The Connaught," I said to the driver as we practically leapt into the back.

Gemma was shaking from cold and I put my arm around her, pulling her into my side. We had much to say to each other, much to catch up on, but for the moment we were silent. We both understood that our physical needs were more pressing.

I was overcome with desire even before we reached the hotel. I had been without the company of a woman for some time now and it had been becoming quite maddening.

I buried my hand in her hair and pulled, tilting her head roughly upward before I covered her lips with mine. Gemma did not protest. She was completely pliable under my forceful attentions.

Turning her more towards me I let my hand move over her legs. I heard her gasp as my fingers moved toward her inner thigh. I would not limit myself to only one part of her however. My hand moved up to her breasts, pushing hard against the thick fabric of her dress.

"If we do not reach the hotel soon," I broke away from her lips and growled into her ear, "I may take you in this carriage."

It was well that we did reach the hotel not long after this because I was completely serious.

I took Gemma by the arm and practically dragged her to my room.

The moment the door was closed I threw her against it and undid her dress. I saw her hand reach up for my mask and stopped her, wrenching her arm away rather violently. After what I had just been through with Bella I did not want to have to think about my face. Gemma must have understood; she did not try to take it off again.

I scooped her up in my arms and carried her to my bed. I lay her down and then quickly removed the suit I had once been so bent on getting.

It was like it never was before. Suddenly I was in control; after feeling as though life was pushing me along according to its rules I was finally setting my own course.

An amazing feeling of peacefulness crashed over me after Gemma and I made love. The angry, nagging voices in my head and the echoing screams of the people at the opera house were quiet. During the wedding my emotions had been at a fever pitch as I battled to keep my anger from rising. Seeing Gemma had pushed me over the edge. I believed that I understood the trite phrase 'mad with desire' even better now.

Yet after she and I had our tryst in the sheets I felt this madness slip away. I felt relaxed, as though a pattern of unfair and cruel events had just been set right.

"It is good to see you again," I said to her.

She laughed, "Likewise," Her eyes flicked up to mine, "Erik…I know you are, sensitive, about your face but I did not think you would mind; I have seen it before after all. Why did you get so angry?"

I stared at her.

"You do not know?"

"Know what?"

"What happened at the opera?"

She looked at me in confusion, "I just arrived in London today. I planned my return so that I could go to Nadir's wedding. I haven't spoken to anyone but you. What happened?"

I sighed, "Forgive me Gemma but after you left I began seeing Bella Sigmund," She looked extremely hurt at this, "It is over between us now though. Actually there was never anything between us; she was using me to get revenge. She pulled my mask off at the Paris Opera in front of everyone."

I looked at Gemma; it was well for Bella Sigmund that so many miles separated the two of them that night. I had seen that look before; the look of a tiger ready to attack. Gemma's eyes were hard; she wanted blood.

"That idiotic whore," She growled, "How dare she! I will not stand for this," It seemed as though Gemma might leave that moment and seek out Bella.

"Yes I have heard."

"What?"

"Since this happened I have heard from you sister and some of your acquaintances that when you returned you would absolutely ruin Bella Sigmund."

"I will."

"I thought you would; no one can tarnish the name of Gemma Chevalier can they?"

She stared at me, "Erik, I could care less about my reputation; it is what she did to you that bothers me!"

For the fist time I really looked at Gemma. I took in her flowing blond hair, her perfect body and her flashing eyes. She looked very angry but also…concerned, caring.

"She cannot hurt you that way," Gemma continued, "I would not mind if she came after me but doing that to you was…unfair. You deserve much better treatment than that!"

I shook my head, "The damage is done Gemma; you cannot make people forget what my face looks like. What good would it do to? Everyone already sees me as a monster; they are already calling me out in the street."

"Who is?" Gemma said sharply. I did not respond. "Oh Erik! I cannot stand to see you hurt like this!"

"Why not? I am used to it by now."

"You should not have to be," Gemma spoke and her voice was strong. She no longer seemed to me so young or so manipulative as when I had been with her over the summer. Was is possible to grow up that much in four months?

"Erik," She placed her hand over my heart, "I love you; wait do not say anything yet," She inched even closer to me, "I was miserable every moment I was in New York and I missed you so much it actually hurt! There was constant pain in my stomach and my heart that could not be cured; thoughts of you only made it worse because I realized how far I was from you. I have been a mess since the moment you and I parted."

"Gemma,"

"Wait," She shook her head, "I am not done yet; that is why I cannot stand the thought of you hurt in any way. You are the most incredible man…I have ever met. You do not deserve to be cast as a monster and robbed of your happiness! Please Erik, I have done so few things that are worth while but loving you, helping you, makes me feel as though I may be worth something."

"Why do you love me Gemma?" I still was not sure I could trust her.

"Because you make me weak Erik," Her eyes suddenly became over bright, "You make me tremble all over and long for your touch; and it is not just that. The things you say to me, your wit, your voice! It is all like air to me. I do not know why people fall in love but if I need you so much I am in pain without you; is that not love?"

I wanted this; I wanted this love. Every night I had gone to bed bitterly wishing someone could love me as much as I could love them. Now here was Gemma, the woman who had occupied my thoughts and my heart since the moment I had met her, telling me her heart was mine.

I did not know if it could be true. I had been wrong so many times that I did not trust my judgment. Yet I had been the one who had wanted this; to be in love. I realized that if I truly was to attain this desire I had to give out some of that trust I had promised to deny everyone after Bella.

Taking Gemma's hand I brought it to my mask.

"Are you sure?" I asked her.

"Yes," She took it off.

The air hit my face and I felt a stab of pain as the memories of the opera house came back to me. Still if I wanted to love Gemma I had to trust her. She had already shown that she trusted me.

She did not scream, she did not turn away. Gemma moved her hand behind my head and she brought her lips to mine. I held her tightly, moving her so that she was under me. We were both ready to make love again.

Suddenly a thought shot into my mind like a bullet though my brain.

"Gemma; we did not use anything! You could…"

"I do not care," She whispered, "I need you; if anything should happen…you would marry me wouldn't you?"

I stared at her, my mind numb with shock, "Of course."

I would have slept much longer the next morning if I had not been woken up by a knock on the door.

Gemma stirred as well, "Who could that be?" She muttered.

"I haven't the foggiest idea," I sighed. I waited a moment to see if whoever it was would just go away but they rapped on the door persistently.

I sighed and left the warm bed for the chill air of the room. I threw the robe over my shoulders and found the tie at the end of the bed. Of course, I also replaced the mask over my face.

"Yes?" I asked grumpily as I opened the door.

You could imagine my utter shock when I saw a police officer at the door.

"Good morning sir," He said, and by his tone I got the distinct impression that he did not in fact care if it was a good morning or not. "I am looking for Gemma Chevalier and I was told she was seen here."

"I am Gemma Chevalier," She came to the door wrapped in a bed sheet; something only Gemma would do, "What is this regarding?"

Gemma spoke perfect English to the man. Her words however still carried a French accent; somehow hearing that was even more pleasing than her usual speak. My own English was decent if not a bit rusty. Still, I knew I would be able to understand what was being said. What on earth this man could want was beyond me however.

"Miss Chevalier you fiancé is looking for you," The officer said.

It was well that I was holding on to the door because I could have fallen over in shock.

"My _what_!" To my further bewilderment Gemma seemed just as surprised at this news as I was. "This is preposterous! I do not have a fiancé! Is this some kind of trick?"

"No Miss," the officer now became just as confused as Gemma and I. "I was contacted by Thomas Ford; he told me you were his fiancé and that you had gone missing."

"Well that is not true is it?" Gemma said angrily, "I know Thomas Ford but I am certainly not engaged to him; I am also not missing." Gemma looked from me to the officer and then addressed him, "I am here of my own volition; go back to Thomas and tell him that if he ever does anything like this again I will put him in a bad way," With this she slammed the door in the police man's face.

I stepped back and took in Gemma's scowling expression. I was not sure I believed it.

"Oh I cannot believe him! The nerve of that man!" She readjusted the blanket around her body as she walked across the room and back to the bed.

"Your fiancé?" I asked dryly.

Gemma turned to me and her anger morphed into concern, "Erik; you do not actually believe that I am engaged do you?"

"I never know what to believe with you."

"Erik honestly!" She threw her hands up in the air in frustration and her sheet dropped. She took a moment to cover herself again before she spoke. "I am not engaged! Thomas Ford is a man I met in New York. He pursued me but we never courted; unlike you and Bella." She added this last bit about Bella with obvious jealousy.

"So why did this Thomas Ford send the police after you?"

"He and I were on the same ship coming to London. He did not want to accept the fact that I was not interested in him. He has been doing all sorts of wild things to try to win me but Erik," She came toward me and wrapped her arms around my neck, her blanket falling from her body once again as she did so.

"Erik I am only interested in you,"

I kissed her. The feel of her lips and the weight of her body in my arms was so fulfilling I wondered how I had gone without it all these months. Still, I was unsure. Gemma seemed to sense this.

"Do you want to go see him and ask him yourself?" Gemma asked.

"See who?"

"Thomas Ford!"

"Maybe I would," The more I thought about it the more I believe that is was the only way.

"Fine!" Gemma backed away from me, "Honestly Erik you are such a fool sometimes! I really do not know why I love you…"

It was not the ideal way to start the morning. Ideally Gemma and I would have stayed in bed all day. Instead we were headed out to the cold streets to see a man named Thomas Ford, who was probably a pompous ass.

Gemma and I arrived at a very sizable, very pristine town house not long after leaving the apartment. She did not speak to me on the way there or as we walked up to the front door.

The door was opened by a butler even before we reached it.

"Are you Miss Chevalier?" The man asked Gemma. She did not respond however and simply walked past him and entered. I followed silently.

"Tom!" Gemma yelled once she was inside. A man appeared out of a room on our left.

He was a bit different than I had expected. He was older than the men who had escorted Gemma's friends to the ball in Deauville. Still he was not an old man; certainly younger than I was.

"Gemma! I wondered if I would see you this morning," He was an American. His air was self assured but not over confident. His wide grin which appeared when he set his eyes on Gemma was charismatic; he appeared to be the kind of man woman would throw themselves at. I hated him already.

"Tom this is the man I am in love with," She wasted no time in getting to the business at hand, "Erik Bonheur," She motioned to me, "Now I want you to tell him that you and I are not engaged!"

Thomas Ford looked from her to me, "Pleased to meet you Erik," He shook my hand and greeted me in the most natural way; as though we had been friend for years. He in no way reacted to Gemma's anger.

"Well Erik you are lucky if she says she loves you! I can understand your concern over her; if she was mine I wouldn't trust any man around her." He smiled in an easy, charming sort of way. If he continued in this manner I would have to punch him in the face.

"I am afraid that we are not engaged however," Thomas Ford went on, his eyes landing on Gemma now, "That was just a little trick I thought I would play on you my dear."

"Tom I swear to God and all that is holy if you do not leave me alone—" Gemma began angrily.

"I know, I know; but you cannot blame a man for trying can you?" Thomas Ford cut her off, "You are a beautiful woman and anyone who would give you up without a fight is mad. Now, on to more pleasant things! Can I get you two something to eat?"

"No," Gemma said sharply, "We are leaving," She spun on her heel and we made for the door.

"Hope to see you both soon!" Ford called after us.

"Well?" Gemma asked me huffily when we were outside, "Are you satisfied now?"

"I suppose I owe you and apology," I sighed, "But Gemma you have to understand, I am not very good at trusting people."

"I hope that in time you can learn to trust me Erik," She said heavily, "If you don't we shall never be happy."

I knew she was right but still it seemed that every time I let someone into my life it turned out the worse for me.

"Erik," Gemma stopped walking and took my hands, moving in front of me and looking me in the eyes, "I did not want to start off this way. I was so excited to see you and now we are fighting! I shall forgive you for not trusting me and blame all this on the problems that come with being in love. Would it be asking too much to start over again?"

"Not at all," It was exactly what I wanted, "Gemma!" I said, acting as though I had just spotted her, "What are you doing here?"

"I just arrived from New York," She played along with our little game perfectly.

"Well you look absolutely beautiful."

"Thank you; you are looking well yourself."

"I have missed you dreadfully."

"As have I."

"Would you care to come and see my hotel room? It is quite nice."

"Mine is closer."

Gemma was staying at a place called The Savoy. It was an impressive hotel to be sure; much more so than the one I had been staying at.

Gemma strutted confidently through the marble and gold gilded lobby, hardly batting an eye at all of the opulence around her.

"Good morning Miss Chevalier," The concierge eagerly greeted her as she passed by.

"Good morning Richard," Gemma responded with these polite words and a small smile but did not stop to chat. Clearly this was just another part of her regular routine.

A few flights up she unlocked the door to a magnificent suite. As I entered I took in the layout of the place. It would have served just fine as an apartment. There was a separate sitting room, dinning room, and bedroom.

"Well you have certainly put me to shame," I said.

"How so?" Gemma asked as she took off her coat and gloves, laying them casually on a chair.

"This room is much bigger than mine,"

She laughed, "I have been a good costumer to them over the years. They like it when I stay here; I am not even paying for this room. The manager offered it to me for as long as I needed."

"How kind of him."

"I thought so," Gemma walked to her bedroom, "Take your jacket off and stay awhile won't you?"

I realized I was still wearing my coat and I threw it on the same chair as Gemma had. Following her to her bedroom I saw her struggling to untie her dress.

"Allow me," I came up behind her and helped her off with the thing.

"Thank you," She smiled at me before going to her chest of drawers and rummaging through her clothes.

I however was more interested in her bed. I sat on the edge.

"This is soft," I said, moving now so that I was laying on it.

Gemma put on a slip and turned to face me. She laughed, "I am happy to see that you are making yourself comfortable."

"There is more than enough room for two," I said, patting the bed.

She laughed again, "Very subtle aren't you?" Still she came and lay next to me on the bed.

I wrapped my arms around her, bringing her close to me and softly kissing her lips. After we broke apart Gemma nestled her head on my shoulder. I noted that she was shaking a bit.

"Are you alright darling?"

"Just cold."

"Would you like to get under the covers?"

"That is a fine idea my love,"

I took off my shoes and we both settled in under her warm comforter. Now we were back to the proper way of spending a chill winter morning.

"Erik I want to talk to you,"

"About?"

"What are you planning on doing now that the wedding is over?"

I sighed, "Originally I had thought I would stay in Paris for awhile but now I am not so sure."

"You were going to stay in Paris? But I thought you hated the city."

"When I thought I was seeing Bella I had wanted to stay in Paris."

"And now?"

"Now I do not know."

"Well…aren't you with me now?" Gemma asked, and she raised her head from its place on my shoulder so she could look me in the eye.

"I had not even thought that far," I laughed at my own nearsightedness, "Yes, I suppose that if we are in love then it would be best if we were in the same city."

"Erik…do you love me?"

I stared at her.

"It's just, you didn't say you did. I would just like to hear the words that is all," She looked hopefully at me.

"Forgive me Gemma; I do love you. Even when I was with Bella I thought of you. That is the truth I swear."

Gemma smiled, "I believe you darling," She kissed me, "Erik I was planning on staying in London for a few weeks. I have two shows to do here. Then I was going back to Paris. If you want to leave London sooner though we can; we could even go back to Deauville if you want."

I realized that Gemma had thought about the reason we had ended our relationship the first time. I had told her I needed to settle down, that I hated travel and parties and such. It sounded as though she had made a choice however; she would be willing to give up London and Paris for me.

I decided that I should be willing to give up things for her as well.

"No no; now that I have come all the way to London I do not want to leave so quickly. As for Deauville; it is rather depressing this time of year. I think I would prefer Paris."

"Really Erik?" Gemma's eyes lit up.

"Absolutely,"

She brought her lips to mine again for a long, passionate kiss. I felt her take off my mask as our kiss grew more heated and I held her tighter. Holding her I thought that maybe I had been wrong before. Maybe Gemma was the love of my life; the only woman who would ever accept and care for me. It was a wild idea to be sure. In no way did it seem possible that this young, rich, socialite who was best known for leaving men would be the one for me. Still I supposed stranger things had happened.

My life had not exactly been conventional so far; runaway, gypsy, magician, ghost…perhaps lover of a famous socialite was just the next, maybe final, stage. If that was true, than she would be worth running all over Paris and London for.

As Gemma kissed me, I felt her hands against my chest, artfully undoing the buttons on my shirt. I let my fingers trail over her back and then down to her legs; inching the slip she was wearing upward. I did not want to go too quickly; I wanted to enjoy her.

Gemma seemed to be of the same mind as me. The night before we had been desperate, our needs too great to bother overmuch with the art of seduction. Now however I allowed myself to touch her, tease her, kiss her until I brought her to that point at which she needed more.

After we made love I am not ashamed to say that I fell fast asleep. I could not have been more content or relaxed and I quickly drifted off into a peaceful slumber.

When I woke up I noticed that the room was considerably darker. I must have slept for some time. Lately I had been robbed of so much sleep that I had forgotten how good it felt to be refreshed.

My next thoughts were of Gemma. In a split second I wondered where she was; she was younger than I and I doubted she had needed such a nap.

However I found, to my delight, that she was still in my arms. She was awake and her green eye and blue eye were staring up at me.

"Did you sleep well?" She asked me softly, patting my chest.

"I did," I yawned, "Did you sleep at all?"

"Not very much."

"Then you just…lay here?" I asked confused, "Did I trap you?" I wondered if somehow my body had weighed on her so that she could not move.

She laughed, "Erik you do not need to trap me. I would happily spend hours just like this." She smiled genuinely at me before she completely broke down in laughter.

"What are you finding so entertaining?" I asked suspiciously.

"Me! 'I could spend hours just like this!' Honestly could I be more cliché?"

"So you are saying that could not spend hours just like this?" I asked.

"No," She nestled her head against my shoulder a bit, "I simply thought it sounded rather silly that is all,"

"I did not think it sounded silly."

"Oh," Gemma smiled, "Well then I take back my outburst of laughter. Come on! We cannot sleep all day!" Gemma shook me playfully and made to get up. I tightened my arm around her.

"Why bother? Why not just stay right here?"

"Erik you cannot possibly be that tired can you?"

"Not at all," I kissed her neck.

Gemma laughed, "Enough Erik! Come I am starving!" She tried to wriggle away from me.

"So am I," I said, kissing her ear.

She laughed harder, "You are positively impossible Erik! I am serious! We shall have time enough later for _that_."

With a heavy sigh I let her go. She threw off the comforter and a rush of cold air hit us.

"I am going to order lunch," Gemma bound energetically out of the bed and stretched. I watched her move, with no desire to do so myself. She dressed herself quickly and then turned to me.

"Get up!" She yanked the comforter away from me and laughed as she sauntered into the next room.

With supreme reluctance I left the comfort of the bed and re dressed.

"Erik! Come and look at this!" I heard Gemma call me from the sitting room.

I went to her. She was standing at the window, peering out at the streets below. I stood next to her. It had begun to snow even harder since we had isolated ourselves in the bedroom. Thousands of white flakes dashed though the air. The streets and building and street lamps visible from the window were covered in a glowing white blanket.

"It looks beautiful doesn't it?" Gemma whispered. I felt her take my arm and wrap it around her.

It occurred to me then just how lonely a sight like this might seem if Gemma had not returned to me. Yet she was there; her very presence was peaceful and claming. I kissed the top of her head and I could see her happy smile reflected in the window.

Gemma rung for a butler who came promptly to take the lunch order; we had inspected a menu the hotel provided and made our selections. So this was the life of the haves I thought as the butler left with our order.

We were enjoying our meal a bit later in Gemma's dinning room when the butler returned to the door.

"Miss Chevalier," He addressed Gemma when she let him in, "You have a visitor; a Mr. Kahn."

Gemma looked to me with surprise, "Of course; let him up." She told him.

"Nadir," I shook my head, "I wonder what he is doing here?"

"He has an excuse to be in bed all day," Gemma shared in my surprise that he was here.

"I do not think one really needs an excuse to be in bed all day,"

Gemma laughed, "I expected you to say that."

Nadir entered a few moments later, his new bride at his side.

"Nadir! Victoria! What in the world are the two of you doing here?" I asked him as he entered.

Nadir and Victoria took a moment to take in the grandness of the room before Nadir answered me.

"Well…when you weren't at your room I asked the concierge if he had seen you. He told me you left with a woman he believed to be Gemma Chevalier. He told me that when Miss Chevalier was in town she usually stayed here."

"I am becoming too easy to find," Gemma shook her head, "I should start wearing a mask; then no one would recognize me."

"It is a difficult look to carry off my dear," I told her, "I am not sure you could handle it."

Gemma laughed heartily.

"Well at least you have gotten your sense of humor back," Nadir looked genuinely relieved, "Lately you have been absolutely miserable."

"So you noticed?" I asked, shifting a bit awkwardly, "Nadir I apologize if I spoiled anything for you."

"No, not at all Erik," He looked from me to Gemma, "I just wanted to…make sure that you were alright."

"I see; you do not trust me with him do you?" Gemma raised her eyebrows, "You think I am not good for him? Well I can not be any worse than Bella Sigmund can I?"

"Gemma that reminds me," I suddenly remembered, "Bella Sigmund said she saw an announcement for the wedding of Nadir Kahn and Victoria Ward."

"Well I do know every publisher in Paris don't I? I would assume that I could get them to run a wedding announcement."

"I told Nadir that it had been your doing!" Victoria Kahn now spoke for the first time. She had a very excited look in her eye; I imagined she saw Gemma was a bit of a celebrity. "Thank you so much."

Gemma smiled kindly, and I noted not pretentiously, at Victoria. "It was no trouble at all, they were happy to run it. Now, the question remains, what on earth possessed the two of you to come all the way over here in such nasty weather?" Gemma deftly turned the conversation from whither or not Nadir approved of her to weather itself.

"To be brutally honest," Nadir said heavily, "We only had the room through today; which would have been perfect you see, but our train back to Dover was canceled because of all of this snow."

"Oh well," Gemma motioned for Nadir and Victoria to come and sit down, "You will just have to stay here tonight! Not in this room of course but there are plenty open. Have you eaten? We can order something for you if you would like."

"Nadir, I was supposed to leave my room today as well! What have they done with all of my things?" I suddenly remembered this. I had thought about it when we had left in the morning but I had imagined we would have returned to my hotel. I had not thought we would be hemmed in by snow a considerable way across town.

"They preserved your room like a shrine," Nadir smirked, "They know you are connected to Gemma Chevalier. They are afraid she will have them all killed or something if they meddle with any of your belongings."

"Are you serious Nadir?"

"I would not joke about a matter like this."

From his tone I was still incapable to deduce if he was speaking in jest or not, "You are impossible!"

"Wait; I thought Nadir and Victoria were supposed to be the married couple," Gemma smiled sardonically as she rang for the butler to come around again.

It only took a matter of seconds for the butler to return, humbly accept Gemma's request for another room, and then return once more to present a key to Nadir. He was also so kind as to put in an order for two more plates; Nadir and Victoria had not yet eaten that day. Gemma also requested that someone be sent to my hotel to bring my things back to me.

The whole thing turned out to be rather nice; to be sure it was as close to a dinner party as I ever wanted to get. As I had not spoken much to the newlyweds on the day of the ceremony I was glad to have a chance to do so now. Indeed, Nadir and Victoria were a charming couple to watch, and infinitely more bearable now that Gemma was by my side again. It is easier to stand love when one is in love themselves.

"I was very sorry I missed your wedding," Gemma was saying.

"Not at all!" Victoria positively glowed; a combination of supreme joy at being a new bride and having the chance to speak to an idol of hers no doubt. "I am honored that you even remembered it!"

Gemma smiled. I noted that Gemma had many smiles; condescending, completely fake, mildly board, mildly entertained, and then there was the one she used when she wanted people to genuinely like her. Her charm was something she could bring on as easily as one would light a candle. Whenever she had need for it she simply lit up the room. I had to admire that quality in her.

"I did plan on coming to London several days before your wedding so that I could actually attend but as my luck would have it the boat was slowed considerably due to weather."

"Gemma I never even asked you," I felt quite rotten for this, "How was your trip over?"

Gemma smiled at me. I tried for a moment to figure out which of her many smiles she granted me but I found, to my delight, that it was quite unlike any other expression she gave.

"Thank you for asking Erik," She put her hand on my knee, "It was awful!" She laughed, "There were terrible winds nearly every day and the sky was always the most depressing shade of gray. I thought I should never make it to London!"

"My poor dear," I draped my arm around her shoulders.

"Well Katharine was worse off than I; she was seasick practically the whole voyage."

"Katharine Rocha? She came back with you?" I asked, remembering the dark blond haired woman with the talent for telling a story I had met in Deauville.

"Yes; we always travel together. Anything else would be silly really; we are always going to the same places."

"Are they here at this hotel as well?" I asked.

"Yes; Katharine, Daria, Lily and her….my her husband now! They married while we were in New York; they are all here."

"Oh my," Victoria fiddled with her hands excitedly; "I never thought I would be staying at the same place as women like you and you friends! You know they were so kind to me in Deauville."

"Well of course they were," Gemma said, "Why wouldn't they be?" I knew it was because Gemma had told them to be sociable.

Victoria blushed, "I…I am not important as you girls are."

Gemma laughed, "We aren't important! We are models and socialites for Christ's sake not members of parliament! You know they are throwing a little party tonight in one of the rooms downstairs; not a very large guest list but there should be a nice turn out. You are welcome to go if you like."

I had not heard of this and suddenly I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I caught Nadir looking at me, judging my reaction to this news. When I thought of spending my evening in the company of Gemma's friends, not to mention other London socialites, I felt a squeamish to say the least.

"Will you be there?" Victoria asked Gemma.

"No," She said without hesitation, "I will not be there. But that hardly matter; there is going to be music and dancing and drinks; if you would like to attend I shall have your names added to the list."

Victoria's eyes lit up, "It sounds wonderful! Nadir darling don't you think it would be wonderful? Can we go?"

Nadir laughed, "If that is what you would like."

Gemma smiled, "Excellent; I shall let Daria know you will be coming."

"May I ask why you are not going to attend?" Victoria innocently asked.

Without missing a beat Gemma answered, "I find I am just not in the mood. I've been so busy lately; I need rest more than dance I think."

I stared at her. I knew she was lying; she was young and energetic. She could have danced for hours on no sleep at all. Gemma was making excuses for my benefit. She had known without even asking that I would not want to attend the party. Without asking, she had refused on my behalf and on her own.

A few hours later Nadir and Victoria left to go and see their own room. We found ourselves standing in front of the window again.

"They are very sweet together," Gemma said once they were gone, "They are so happy aren't they?" She took my hands in hers.

"They are," I kissed her forehead, "Thank you."

"For?"

"For being so kind to them for one, and for…the party." I wanted her to know I understood what she had done for me.

"Oh Erik I do not need to be thanked for that," She smiled at me, "I have been to these things thousands of times! I need another social event like I need a hole in my head. What I have not had a lot of lately is you."

I pulled her closer to me, "Gemma I love you, but will it eventually become a problem for you? Will you want to leave these parties behind you?"

"Well," She put her arms around me, drawing her hands up and down my back in the most pleasing way, "There will be times when I have to go to these things and I was hoping that you would come with me once and awhile."

"Once and awhile?"

I considered. I would never come to love social events or master them the way that Gemma did. Perhaps is she had met me years ago when I was young and resilient she might have made a real change in me. Now, after suffering so many humiliations, some merely pin pricks to my pride but others stab wounds to me, it seemed an impossible task to transform me.

It was not a matter of not wanting change and it was not for lack of trying that I found my feelings toward the public were the same. I was haunted by too many memories and as hard as I tried to forget my past and look to the future, I could not seem to give up the ghost.

All of this I thought of as I looked at Gemma, waiting for a response to her question. Once and awhile, that was all this woman who loved me was asking for. "I suppose I could do that."

Gemma laughed, "Good; you know I had another reason for wanting to stay in tonight."

"Oh really?" I raised my eyebrows.

"Yes; a very selfish reason I might add." She smiled wickedly at me.

"And what might that be?"

"Come with me and I will show you." Gemma took my hand and pulled me toward the bedroom.

"Aren't you the girl who did not want to spend all day in bed?" I teased her.

"We were up for awhile."

"I see; so when I want to stay in bed we have to get up but when you want to go to bed it is alright?"

"Yes,"

I laughed, "That is not really fair is it?"

I had stopped Gemma on her way to the bedroom. She now pulled her arm away from me and regarded me with the most beguiling eyes.

"I'm sorry darling; won't you let me make it up to you?" She spoke in a very seductive manner, tossing her hair back and exposing her neck.

"Well…well I don't know." I did not want her to be able to push me around too easily. I knew I needed to have some control. However sometimes I wondered if she didn't understand my needs even better than I did.

"I see," Gemma drew close to me, "I can't blame you; I have behaved very badly." She kissed the shell of my ear and then stepped back. I watched her hands as they moved to the ties on her dress and undid them. "I'll be in the room," Gemma said, letting the dress drop and pool around her feet she stepped out of in and walked, that entrancing walk that had made her famous, to the bedroom door.

"Do try to think of some way of forgiving me darling," She smiled and shut the door.

I only stood in the other room for a minute before I joined her.

Much later we both found ourselves quite tired and we drifted off to sleep.

I was deep in a lovely dream that involved a piano, Gemma, and an ink pen when I heard someone knocking on the door. Confound these English! Had they no sense? Did they make it their personal mission to seek me out and wake me from sleep by knocking on my door?

It could not be morning already could it? I grumped this question to myself as I rose from the bed. The clock in the room read four in the morning. Whoever it was better have a gun, I thought as I tied a robe around myself, because otherwise I was going to kill this intruder. As promised, my things had been brought to the hotel. They had arrived in the late afternoon and interrupted another lovely thing that had involved a chair, Gemma, and a feather from one of her hats.

"Gemma! Are you awake!" Once I got to the door I realized that it was the voice of a woman calling to Gemma. My plans for revenge by death quickly evaporated; I did not harm women.

"Gemma!" The voice called again.

I pulled open the door and faced a very unpleasant menagerie. There were two people waiting at my door. A very agitated looking Daria Werbowy and a very panicked looking Katharine Rocha. I could not have been more surprised to see them but they had no shocked reaction ready for me.

"Erik is Gemma awake?" Katharine looked pleadingly at me.

"Why would she be; it is four in the morning," I said, more a result of reaction than of trying to seem witty.

Daria laughed and Katharine shook her head

"What in hell is going on?" Gemma had come out from our room now, "What are you two doing here?"

"Katharine has heard a ghost," Daria said dryly as Gemma motioned for her two friends to enter. I suddenly found myself in an unpleasant position. Even though I knew these girls I felt uncomfortable around the. Thank God I had put on my mask!

"A ghost?" Gemma raised her eyebrows.

"Yes," Katharine said, pacing about the room as the other two girls sat down. I stood off at a bit of a distance, feeling awkward. "And I did not just hear the ghost; I saw it to."

"You had so many glasses of champagne tonight you would not know if you saw a ghost or your own reflection!" Daria cried out in frustration.

"That is not true! I did see a ghost, and I heard it! Besides, you had just as much champagne as I did."

"Yes but I am not claming to have seen apparitions."

Gemma stood, "I have to ring Lily; she cannot miss all this excitement." After she did this she turned back to Katharine, "Now about this ghost; where did you see it?"

"In my room," She said quickly, "It was in my bedroom."

"Are you sure it was a ghost?" Daria smirked.

"Yes! What kind of a girl do you take me for?" Katharine then looked apologetically from me to Gemma, "Sorry; I meant nothing by it."

"Oh it is alright," Gemma said nonchalantly, "Erik doesn't mind do you?"

Did I mind? Did I mind that no matter what was done to separate her from it Gemma would always have a life quite outside of me, a life that I was not sure I could take part in but that would never leave us be? It was as though Gemma lived in two dimensions at once and I, like a lost spirit waiting for the boat to cross the river Styx, could only be on one side.

"No," I said, because at the time it was the right thing to say.

"So this ghost; did it have legs?" Gemma asked.

Katharine considered, "Well…no; it was just a floating torso I think, I did not have much time to look at it before I ran mind you."

"Maybe you did not have much time to look at it because it was not there," Daria quipped.

"It was there! I heard something in my room and when I opened the door he was there!"

"So it was a male ghost," Gemma smiled, "Was he attractive?"

Katharine shook her head, "Whatever does that matter?"

"Well," Gemma smiled, "If you are being haunted in your bedroom by an attractive male ghost I really do not see the problem."

"He is only a torso Gemma remember," Daria joined in teasing her friend.

"So? That is still enough; besides he may be a funny ghost as well. That makes of for the lack of leg in the male ghost body part swap."

"Oh you two!" Katharine glared at them. There was a knock at the door and we were joined by Lily and Derek Westwood; newly married. Just what I wanted; more people in our room at four in the morning. I cursed them for coming; Gemma and I wanted to be left alone! I knew that was not it however; I wanted to be left alone.

"What is going on?" Lily asked, and I noted that her blond hair looked distinctly ruffled, as did her new husband. Perhaps they had been disturbed doing what I had been dreaming of doing…only without the piano and pen I assumed.

"Katharine saw a ghost," Gemma said casually, going to the kitchenette and putting a pot on for tea.

"Oh," Lily said, as though this were common, "Did it have legs?"

"It was a he; and why does everyone what to know about the legs?" Katharine asked her less than sympathetic friends.

"I have never seen a ghost," Lily yawned, "I wanted to know what one looks like. One reads so many descriptions of them! Who are you to believe?"

"So you believe me? You think I saw a ghost?" Katharine asked desperately.

Lily looked pensive for a moment, "No."

"Erik believes me, don't you Erik?" Katharine looked at me.

The last thing I wanted was to get involved with this conversation however now I had no choice.

"Well…I never believed in ghosts myself but I suppose one must leave room for the unexplained. It is true though, in my minds eye I have always seen a ghost as not having legs."

Gemma laughed and came to stand next to me. She linked her arm through mine and ever so subtly guided me to her sofa.

"Could it touch anything?" Lily asked as she and her husband also sat down.

"What do you mean?" Katharine asked, clearly distraught that no one believed her.

"I mean, let us say he wanted to pick up a brush," Lily began.

"Why would he want to pick up a brush?" Gemma interrupted.

"I believe the real question would be what would a male ghost want with a hair brush." I muttered this but everyone heard. To my great relief they laughed.

"The man speaks the truth," Derek Westwood seconded my opinion, "If I was a male ghost, I certainly would not go after a hair brush."

"Oh," His wife raised her eyebrows and stared at him, "Pray tell, what would you go after?"

"Do you really want me to say in front of all these people?" Clearly the honeymoon was not yet over.

"You are an awful man Derek Westwood," Lily shook her head and turned back to Katharine, "Allow me to begin again. Let us say this man ghost is in your bedroom and wants a look at your undergarments," This drew considerably laughter from everyone except Katharine and myself; I had not been sure if it was appropriate. "Could he open a drawer?"

"Oh how should I know!" Katharine cried out in frustration.

"Well you are our resident ghost expert." Daria teased.

"All of you are being very rude," Katharine frowned, "I saw something in my room and if it was a ghost or if it was just wind and light I was really frightened!"

"Alright alright," Daria motioned for her friend to sit next to her, "We know; look we are all awake and keeping you company! It was a very funny thing that is all, to hear you say you saw a ghost."

"You would not be so jovial if you had seen it," Katharine grumbled.

"Well there is an idea!" Gemma cried suddenly, "We should all go to your room Katharine and see for ourselves if there is anything there."

"No! I am not going back in there!" Katharine shook her head.

"Oh come Katharine! It is the only way!" Gemma looked around at her other friends gathered in her sitting room, "You all agree don't you?"

"It is four in the morning," Daria said dryly, "Agreeing and disagreeing is the same to me right now,"

"That is the spirit!" Gemma smiled, getting up from the sofa.

"I thought the spirit was in Katharine's bedroom." Lily took another jab at her friend.

"Really? I thought Lily was the one with the spirit in her bedroom…or should I just say Lily is the one with the spirited bedroom?" Katharine raised her eyebrows, looking from Lily to her husband.

"Girls, it is too early for innuendos and bad puns," Daria said, standing and pulling Katharine up with her.

A jolly bunch we all marched to Katharine's room. She opened the door and we stepped inside. I had to admit that the room did seem a bit eerie; so dark and silent. Gemma latched onto my arm with an iron grip.

We walked to the bedroom door. I listened, we all listened, for any tell tale sound. I could not be sure, but I did think that I heard something. There was a creaking or a rustling. I was sure it was nothing more than the boards in the hotel itself.

"Erik open the door," Gemma whispered, and out of the corner of my eye I saw Katharine grab Daria's arm.

"Me? Why?"

"Because you are the man here."

"What about me!" Derek laughed and Lily hushed him.

"Together?" Derek looked at me and I nodded. We both reached for the door at the same moment and pulled it open. There it was; moonlight reflecting off of a mirror and another shadow being cast by dress on a chair. However the women behind us did not react that way. I heard screams and turned to see the four friends running from the room.

"They are ridiculous aren't they?" Derek laughed, "It is only the moon!" He called after them.

I watched the four women cling to each other, now beginning to laugh at their own actions. I suddenly realized that I was the one being ridiculous. Theses women were not something I needed to feel frightened or threatened by.

Gemma motioned to me and I smiled, going over to her and wrapping my arms around her.

"I cannot believe we got so scared!" Gemma laughed, speaking to me and her friends at the same time.

In the dark hotel room I saw these woman, and Derek Westwood, in a whole new light. They were not above me nor were they bed people. They were normal, if not somewhat silly, friends. I did not need to dread their company as though they were some malicious spirits. What was more, I did not have to worry about loosing Gemma, the one good relationship I had ever had, to a world of glamour and parties because I could enter that world.

Right there in the ghost free hotel room, I finally started to feel less haunted.

For obvious reasons, we woke late the next day. I realized that this was a routine I could settle in to; rise late in the day, have a breakfast cart delivered, and be at liberty to kiss Gemma at any time I wished. I felt as though it was summer all over again and she was living with me. I wondered how long we could go on like this, living together quite improperly.

The snow had stopped falling at last and the sky was a brilliant shade of white.I felt no desire to go outside; it looked bitterly cold.

"Well my darling," I looked at Gemma over a plate of pastry, "What shall we do today?"

She smiled at me, "I have some letters to write but after that I am all yours and you can do what you like."

I raised my eyebrows, "Who are you writing to? Surely it can wait?"

Gemma laughed at me, "No, it is better I send them sooner than later."

"So tell me; who are the lucky recipients of these urgent letters?" I was only half interested in the answer to this question really. What I cared more about was the muffin and toast I was now buttering.

"Georgette, possibly Gisele, and some…other contacts in Paris," She added the last bit with an unmistakable air of mystery. However I was less interested in this little secret than in my breakfast.

"Thank Georgette for me will you?" Was all I said, "She was most kind to me in Paris after…it happened."

"I shall; she has been invaluable to me as well," Gemma laughed, "You know she was my spy? I had her tell me absolutely everything she could about your movements. You have no idea how devastated I was when I heard you were matched with Bella Sigmund of all people!"

I looked up at her. She looked positively incensed; a lioness that's territory had been stepped on.

"It was a mistake you know," I told her, "A complete and utter mistake and I do regret it, but Gemma are you angry with me over this?" I asked her suspiciously. As wicked as Bella had turned out to be I did not think Gemma had a right to be angry with me over the affair.

"Oh of course not!" She said quickly, "You did nothing wrong; had you two gone on to fall in love I would have been most happy that you were happy."

"Liar," I laughed at her.

She nodded, "I know; but I would have pretended. In any case I was heartbroken when I found out you were seeing someone else. I…I could not believe you had stopped loving me when I still loved you so much." She added the last bit in a very quiet voice.

"I do not think I ever stopped loving you Gemma," I sighed, "I just thought you and I could never be, that was all."

Gemma looked up at me, "We can be though, can't we?"

"I believe we can."

After breakfast Gemma sat down at her writing desk in the sitting room and began her letters. I settled down in a chair with the paper; it had been delivered with breakfast. It was a charming domestic scene; the two of us sitting comfortably at our tasks. Though we were silent, I knew that we were both aware of the other.

A knock came at the door and I, thinking it was the butler with some message or other, answered it. To my surprise, it was Derek Westwood.

"Good, just the person I wanted to see," Westwood spoke in a whisper, "Is Gemma in?"

I nodded, confused and suspicious of this man.

"Do you think you can get away for a little while?"

"Whatever for?"

"Oh! Did you already get her something for Christmas then?"

Good lord I had completely forgotten! Christmas was days away and of course I had nothing for her. Not that she could blame me; I had not known we would be spending the holidays together. Still I wanted to get something for her, to show her I was thinking of her.

I would have much preferred waiting until the night and then sneaking out to some store and doing as I had done while living under the opera; break in, take what I wanted, and leave the money for it on the counter. That was clearly out of the question however and I did not see any other way to do this than to go with Westwood.

"Of course," I said quickly, "Let me get my things."

"Erik…where are you going?" Gemma asked me as she saw me pick up my coat.

"Out," I saw Westwood's need now for secrecy; our lovers were not to know what we were up to…or for that matter that we had waited so long to pick up something for them.

She raised her eyebrows, "Out where?"

I shook my head and kissed her temple, "Just out; do not fret I will return."

"Erik you are being so odd! Who was that at the door?" She regarded me with suspicious eyes.

"Goodbye!" I smiled at her, rushing out the door and then into the hall. Westwood was waiting for me at the head of the stair.

"I thought you wouldn't have purchased anything for her yet, seeing as how you two just reunited. I am no good at buying things for women so believe me I will be grateful for the second opinion." Westwood told me all of this as we walked down the stairs.

Derek Westwood was a tolerable enough man. He was exactly what I thought of when I thought of American's; blunt, uncompromising, but mostly jovial. Still that did not mean I would seek out his company. Yet I supposed I could become used to him; he could be a valuable comrade.

"I am not sure I will be much help," I admitted, "I haven't a clue as to what to get Gemma, let alone any other woman."

Westwood laughed, "No man has a clue about women; but together I think we stand a better chance."

We walked across the lobby and out onto the snow covered streets. I could not help but notice that as we went we were greeted and wished good day by every worker in the lobby; the front doors were even opened for us.

I caught my reflection in the mirrors lining the lobby walls as we left. It was only a quick glance but it was enough. I noticed how different I looked compared to Westwood. He was young, his appearance nothing less than respectable. I looked like someone he had hired to take out his business competition. I was taller than him and older, my long black coat and black gloves covering all of me while my wide brimmed hat obscured my face, not to mention the mask! I looked most dastardly.

"Maybe I will get her a bracelet or a necklace," Westwood was saying as we walked down the street.

I took in the hustle and bustle around me. There was a considerable amount of people about; no doubt readying themselves for the upcoming holiday. I was glad for my wide brimmed hat!

"Yes, I suppose one can never be wrong purchasing jewels for women," I said to him.

"Were you thinking you would get Gemma something like that?" He asked me.

"As I said before," I spoke a little more irritably than I really had a right to, "I have no idea what to get her. The problem is; she already _has_ everything!"

Westwood laughed heartily, "You have a point there! Lily is the same way; she has more jewels than the Queen of England herself."

"It seems the same it true for dresses,"

"Oh absolutely!" Westwood agreed readily, "Lily insisted on bringing something like two hundred dresses to New York and you know what?"

"What?"

"She did not even wear ten of them! She got all new ones!"

"How ridiculous!" I shook my head.

"Gemma is the same way; all four of those women are!" Westwood seemed as though he had been waiting for someone to tell all this to for some time, "Do you know how many suits I have?"

"Less than two hundred?" I asked.

Westwood laughed, "Exactly! It is such a foolish waste of money! I just do not understand why they need so many clothes!"

"It is part of their charm and mystic," I said.

Westwood nodded and smiled, "I know; it hardly matters what Lily does I would still love her blindly."

"It is amazing really, how one woman can turn an otherwise reasonable man's head," I had been thinking this for years.

"Exactly!" Westwood's mind seemed to be on the same track as mine, "I seem to remember being a content bachelor before I met Lily," He laughed, "Now I have to worry about holidays, birthdays, anniversaries…the joys of marriage! Ah! Here we are!" Westwood pointed to a shop and we entered.

I looked around; they seemed to sell quite a few things; there was cases of jewels, hats, gloves; every gift a woman could want.

"How long did you and Lily court before you were engaged?" I asked Westwood a bit tentatively as I pretended to look at a gold broach but really was eyeing a large diamond ring.

"About a year," Westwood suddenly stared at me, dropping the stole he had picked up, "Are you thinking of proposing!"

I cursed him for seeing though my deception and quickly moved off from him and the ring, "No," I grumped.

"Erik I do think she would say yes."

I stared at him.

"I was there in New York remember!" He looked at me, "From the moment we arrived she was miserable! She went to all the shows of course but she hardly attended the parties! Lily told me that she spent most of her time in bed _crying _because of her heartbreak over you. Besides, you must marry her at some point; you cannot go on living as you are forever."

I was right; Westwood would be a valuable source of information.

"Crying? I cannot picture Gemma crying over me."

"Well Lily said she was, and I do not believe my wife was lying; she is an amazing gossip but an awful liar."

"Crying?" I said again, not able to hide the joy this sad news brought me. It was nice to know that I had been missed that much, "I am far to pleased by this," I muttered, knowing it was wrong to take pleasure in someone else's pain.

Westwood laughed, "Nonsense! You have somehow done what millions of men have tried to do but never succeeded! You made Gemma Chevalier fall in love with you!" Westwood laughed, "In a sick way you are almost a hero!"

I stared at him, raising my eyebrows, "I would be a poor choice for a hero."

"Maybe so," Westwood shrugged, "But all the same I do think she would marry you…say what do you think of this?" He held up a pair of gloves.

I shook my head, "Not quite good enough I believe."

Westwood put them back, "I thought as much…but what do you think of a locket, or perhaps perfume?" It became clear to me then that he was just going to go around the store and pick up everything and ask my opinion about it.

As for myself I really wanted something special for Gemma, something that would show her how much I cared for her. As for an engagement ring, I thought I would wait until we had been together a bit longer.

I had been considerably cheered by Westwood's account of Gemma's despair without me and this whole shopping business was not so bad.

We had been there for some time when Westwood turned to me, "What do you think? Shall we go to another shop or just buy something here?"

I was about to respond when the door to the shop opened. This was not a rare occurrence by any means. The place was bustling with men doing their last minute business.

Yet this was different because this person I recognized.

Westwood had turned when the door opened as well; a natural reaction to see who was entering.

"Oh damn," He muttered, "That is my cousin or some such relation on my mother's side. I had forgotten that he lived in England. I am sorry; I have not spoken to him in years; I'll have to say hello."

"Raoul! Good to see you again!" Westwood quickly put on a cheerful demeanor, "It has been some time has it not?"

"Yes," Raoul de Chagny answered his cousin with clear suspicion and trepidation, looking from Westwood to me.

"Are you living in London now?" Westwood asked him.

"No," Raoul said quickly and his eyes roamed over me. I knew what he was thinking; he did not want to give away his address right in front of me. Clearly he though I would follow him home. I wondered if he wouldn't lunge at me there in the store; or worse give me away to the authorities.

"Congratulations," Raoul said in a most stoic voice, unable to control his discomfort in my presence, "I understand you were recently married," He spoke to his cousin, "I am sorry we could not attend. My wife was pregnant you see."

I felt a shock run through me; Christine was pregnant! Maybe a mother by now; still that should be no surprise to me. She was married after all; of course they would start a family.

"I understand completely! A baby! That is wonderful news."

"Yes he was born in early September," Raoul still spoke in an almost dead sounding voice. I saw his eyes light suddenly with terror; no doubt he thought it unwise to speak of his child in front of me.

"A son on the first try! How lucky! What did you name him?"

"Charles,"

"A fine name," Westwood waited for Raoul to say more but he did not, "Well, we were just leaving, oh! This is Erik Bonheur by the way! Sorry," Westwood apologized for not introducing us sooner.

I extended my glove clad hand and wondered if Raoul would shake it. He stared at me as though I were offering him a poisonous snake.

At the last minute he took my hand and shook it once, quickly letting go and not meeting my eyes as he did so.

"Well perhaps I will see you again soon," Westwood said awkwardly, "But if not than have a merry Christmas; I hope you have more luck shopping for you wife than we have had."

Raoul nodded but did nothing more.

"Good day then," Westwood said and we left the shop. I was thankful for the cold fresh air outside as I had felt most hot during our little meeting with Raoul.

"God what an odd fellow," Westwood shook his head, "He gets stranger every time I see him!"

I nodded, "Yes, most odd," What else could I say? I still could not really believe that out of all the stores we could have gone to we had gone to the same was as Raoul de Chagny of all people! I would have liked very much for the whole painful and foolish affair with him and Christine to disappear into the shades of the past. I supposed that was too great a request to ask of fate.

My only hope was that de Chagny did not make trouble for me. I would leave him alone, he would see that soon enough. Would it be too terrible for him to reciprocate this action? I had a present and a future to worry about.

Westwood continued to tell me of his cousin.

"He ran off with some chorus girl and married her," Westwood explained as though I did not know the whole story and more, "A huge scandal in our family; mother could not believe it! Anyway since then no one has seen him. I thought they had moved out to the country but perhaps they came to London for winter."

"Perhaps,"

"I do hope we do not run in to him again; he is a rather dull fellow for one but there is also some bad blood between him and your Gemma."

"I have heard," I had not forgotten the story.

"I wonder if she even knows that he is in town."

"Indeed," I tried to quell the awful feeling that Gemma would discover my past from de Chagny somehow and that she would leave me.

We went to two more shops after that, both of us making purchases at both stores. For Gemma I bought a very beautiful gold necklace with one diamond hanging off of it. I wanted her to be able to wear it every day; it was not a ring but for the moment I thought that at least in my mind it would serve the same purpose. Gemma would wear the necklace I gave her because she belonged to me. It would show the world that she belonged to me. I did not know much of women's fashions, but I ventured a guess and purchased an ermine stole.

I also got her a copy of a book about architecture that I knew she would hate but that reminded me of how we had met. Westwood followed his instincts and purchased for his wife more exquisite jewelry she would not need.

We had been gone longer than I had anticipated and I was eager to get back to Gemma. Westwood and I hurried up the stairs and down the hall; I learned that he was staying just a few rooms down from us.

"Well I think we were most successful," Westwood said as I reached my door.

"Yes; we will please our woman and clutter their closets most sufficiently,"

Westwood laughed, "See you later then."

I nodded and opened my door. I planned on being quiet but I heard voices; a man and a woman's. It only took a moment for me to realize it was none other than that imbecile Thomas Ford!

"What in hell are you doing here?" I barged in on Ford's little meeting with Gemma. She was standing next to her writing desk, looking angry.

"Tom was just leaving." She said coldly, regarding Ford with a startlingly malicious glare.

"Now come Gemma; I am allowed to pay a visit am I not?" He spoke jovially, as though there was nothing wrong with this actions.

Before Gemma could answer him I did, "No," I stepped toward him, "No you cannot pay her a visit and do you know why?" I did not stop until I was face to face with him; my mask inches from his cheek, "You cannot see her because she belongs to me and I don't like you,"

"Now wait a minute," Ford stepped back just a bit but seemed determined, "She is not property! She cannot belong to someone—"

I cut him off, closing the small distance between us, "Yes she can, and she belongs to me and no one else."

"She is free to do as she pleases," Ford said and I lost my temper. I grabbed him by the collar and shook him violently. He was surprised and put up little resistance.

"She is not free! She belongs to me do you understand!" I pushed him back, sending him to land on the floor.

He jumped up angrily, "You can not treat me like this!"

"Yes I can!"

"Is there a problem here?" Westwood must have heard us yelling because he had entered the room now and was looking from Ford to me.

"No," I said angrily, "I was just showing this man to the door," I grabbed Ford by one arm and Westwood quickly took the other.

He struggled in our grasp, "Get off me!" However, he was overpowered. We marched him out of the door and down into the lobby. Dragging him to the door we tossed him out onto the street.

"Stay away from her or next time I will break your neck!" I warned him as he picked himself up off the ground.

I heard a click off to my right. For a moment I thought it might be someone cocking a handgun but then I realized it was another kind of shooter that could be just as deadly. A photographer was there; Gemma had told me that one or two of them sometimes loitered around the front of the hotel, hoping to see someone important.

After getting his shot the man quickly ran off. He was lost; I wondered if I would be charged for assaulting Ford but I doubted it; surely Gemma knew some way of avoiding that.

"You aren't her keeper," Ford spat at me, "She is not yours and she never will be."

"She is mine," I growled at him, "Gemma hates you."

"She did not hate me in New York!"

His words stung me and despite myself I wondered if they were true.

"Come on Tom," Westwood addressed him in a cold, albeit calm voice, "It would be best for all of us if you just went home. You do not want to cause a scene."

Ford glared at him and at me but he did move off. As I watched him go I saw something else in the distance; staring at me from across the street. Raoul de Chagny; he must have followed us at some point; trying to find me before I found him. I hoped he would be satisfied soon enough that I was not in London for him or for his family. As for confronting him, I had more pressing matters to deal with.

After bidding goodbye to Westwood I returned to the room. Gemma stood by the window, pacing back and forth. As I entered she looked up and her eyes met mine.

"Well?" I asked her. Her expression was unreadable and I wanted to know her thoughts. I wondered if she was angry with me for telling Ford that she belonged to me; Gemma did not like to be owned.

"Erik I am so sorry," I was struck with her apologetic tone, "I asked for your trust and I am not making it easy for you to give it to me." Gemma's eyes were very bright and when she took a breath I noticed her shake, "I am afraid…afraid that what I have done in the past will keep you from putting faith in me."

So I was not the only one who felt haunted by relationships past. I quickly shook my head and went to her, putting my hands on her shoulders, "You did not want him here did you?"

"Of course not!"

I suddenly had another thought, "He did not hurt you did he?" I looked over her quickly, searching for any sign of abuse. If he had touched one hair on her head…

"No…not…no," She put on a strong face but I saw through it. He had done something to scare her.

"Gemma what did he do?"

"Erik," She said nothing more and I resolved to inspect her myself. I ran my thumb across her cheek, tilting her head I looked down at her neck. Then I took her hands.

"What is this?" I found an angry red cut between her thumb and forefinger.

"Nothing," She muttered, "I was holding a letter and he…he ripped it out of my hand that is all."

"I see," I let go of her hand and took a deep breath, trying to compose my anger. How dare that man touch her! How dare he injure her! It was no mortal wound to be sure but when I thought of what might have come to pass had I come home any later I knew what was to be done.

"Gemma how do I get out of this hotel without being seen?"

"Erik," She shook her head, "Erik no,"

"Gemma answer me," I demanded, grabbing her shoulders once again.

"Erik stop!" She brought her arms upward and out, throwing off my grasp and stepping back. "Erik I can handle him on my own! I do not need you to do anything."

"Yes I know," I growled coldly and angrily to her, "You do not need me at all! You have a thousand men just waiting to take my place! Ford did get a hell of a laugh when I clamed you belonged to me and he was right to! You refuse to belong to anyone!"

"Oh stop it you old fool!" She spat back at me, "That is not what I meant and you know it! Do you have any idea how badly I wanted you to walk through that door the moment Ford entered? I did need you today, I needed you very much and I was so relieved to see you that I could have cried!"

She took my hands back in hers, "What I do not need is to have you go off angry and do something foolish like strangle Tom to death. This entire hotel knows you dragged him out of here and if he is found dead then you have a lovely motive."

I felt myself claming down. I wondered if half the reason I had become so angry with her in the first place was because I had been so wound from shopping all day and from Ford.

"Someone took a picture of me doing it," I said, "I suppose that would not support my innocence."

"No, it wouldn't," Gemma moved closer to me, "I could not stand it if you were arrested. I do belong to you Erik, and I need you. If you were gone…"

At last I was able to fold her in my arms, enjoying the sensation of her head resting on my chest.

"Erik," She said suddenly, "You said someone took your picture?"

"Yes," I sighed, "Do you think Ford will press charges?"

"No," Gemma laughed, "But tell me darling…did you learn the name of the man who took the picture?"

"No," I said hesitantly, "He ran off; but what does that matter?"

"Well what did he look like?" She asked eagerly.

"He…he was short, very short, a black beard, and he wore a green hat," I was shocked I remembered any of this.

"Ned! That is Ned!" Gemma said excitedly and she drew away from me, returning to her seat at her desk, "I know where he works! I am going to give them one hell of a story to print with that picture."

With this she was off, completely consumed by her task. I was not sure I wanted to know what kind of story she would invent. The very idea that a picture of me might run in a paper was terrifying, but I would have appeared unmasked in public again if it meant revenge on Thomas Ford.

Leaving Gemma to her writing, I collected my parcels from my shopping excursion earlier and took them to the bedroom, trying to think of a proper hiding place for them.

By the time I had stowed them all away Gemma was finished with whatever story she was concocting and she to came into the bedroom.

"I am worn through," She sighed, falling on the bed and stretching out on the soft comforter, "Quite a taxing day this has turned into."

I joined her on the bed and lay next to her. I wrapped an arm around her, bringing her snugly in to my body, my other hand caressing her back.

"Oh that feels nice," She sighed and I felt her muscles relaxing under my touch. She nestled a bit closer to me, "Where did you go today?"

"Nowhere."

She laughed, "I know you went somewhere so you might as well tell me."

"No; I prefer to be mysterious."

"Erik!"

"You may 'Erik' me all you like mademoiselle I shan't tell you a thing."

She made to hit my chest but I restrained her easily by holding her tighter.

"Now Gemma, be nice," I warned her.

"Or what?"

"Or I will not kiss you ever again," Faced with this ridiculous sounding threat she immediately stopped fighting against my grasp. "Wise choice," I told her, brining her to me and pressing my lips to hers.

"Erik can I tell you something?" Gemma asked when she drew away.

"Of course, you may tell me anything you like," I said, wondering what on earth she would relate to me. One just never knew with her.

"Erik today I…I was frightened. I did not want to tell you earlier because you were already so angry and I really do not think that Tom would have hurt me but…I was scared," She looked as though she had just greatly unburdened herself.

"Gemma that is perfectly natural," I held her very close, "I am not surprise you were frightened; but I do not want you to worry about it anymore. I would never let him touch you."

"What if you were not there?"

"When will I not be there?"

"What if I go out and you do not come with me,"

"I will always go with you then,"

"But Erik—"

I shook my head, "No; I will. However uncomfortable I feel in society I would be twice as worried if I knew you were unprotected."

Gemma smiled tenderly at me, "Thank you darling," She shook her head, "I did not before, but I hate him now. I will make him regret the day he ever laid eyes on me," She spoke quite darkly and I was reminded that Gemma could be almost frightening herself sometimes.

I understood her situation perfectly. Gemma's power lay in pulling strings, in ruining reputations and fortunes. Yet faced with Thomas Ford alone these things would be no ally to her. He could overpower her, though no doubt she would put up a good fight.

Still I had to wonder why Ford would be so foolish; he had to know that Gemma Chevalier would not tolerate ill treatment…or maybe he did not know her as well as I did.

"Gemma what was the story?"

"Hmm?" She seemed to have been thinking about something else and I wondered briefly what it was; she had been looking off into space for a few moments now.

"The story you are sending the paper; what is it?"

"Oh! It is only a little explanation of the situation detailing how the dark, enigmatic Erik Bonheur has taken the heart completely of the notoriously promiscuous Gemma Chevalier. How he is setting the new standard for men of his situation; to be less given to parties and fashion and tradition. It also will mention that other suitors will not be tolerated by Mr. Bonheur who will throw aside any foppish young man who tries to take away his lady."

"How romantic," I smiled, "But are you sure public humiliation is enough?"

"Oh of course not. I plan on doing much more,"

"Anything I can do?"

"Erik I told you before I am not going to let you strangle him!"

"You know Gemma I may do it without your permission," She gave me a warning look and I had a sudden thought. "Gemma how did you know I was planning on strangling him?"

"What?" She looked confused.

"You said you would not let me strangle him, but I had not told you how I was planning on killing that bastard."

"Erik I did not know what you were planning! I just used strangulation as an example! Besides, it is really the most efficient way to do it; you do not have to worry about muffling the sound of a gunshot or about getting blood on yourself."

I stared at her and she stared back at me. Sometimes I wondered if she didn't know too much about plotting and planning. Yet then she too must have wondered why I was so eager and unafraid to offer up my services as an assassin. I realized then that in a relationship, some questions are better left unasked.

Gemma went back to resting her head on my chest and her eyes slid closed as I rubbed her back. I went back to thinking.

My face was to be in the papers again; this time in a much more flattering light I hoped. As I thought over this prospect, I could not help but hope that a copy of Gemma's masterfully devised story would make its way into the hands of Raoul de Chagny.

I hoped that he and Christine would read it and would see that I had not remained the pathetic creature I had been when they had known, and left, me. I wanted them to know I was better off without them, that I had risen above them.

I did not flatter myself that they would care overmuch, or even see the damn story for that matter. I did not believe that when Christine read the print she would feel the same burning of anger and sorrow that I had experienced upon learning that she loved another.

Still it would be a small kind of triumph, petty perhaps but I did think that after all the disappointment and humiliation I had been subject to I deserved my victory, half empty though it was.

Gemma's delicate hand reached out suddenly and in her semi sleeping state she wrapped her arm around me, holding on. I was reminded then that I had won; I had won her. Even if this did not matter to Raoul and Christine, not to mention baby Charles, it did matter to me.

Gemma belonged to me. No, that was still not it. The image of Gemma Chevalier belonged to the masses, but her heart belonged to me.


	37. London Times

London Times

The picture appeared in the paper almost immediately. I supposed the story had been too good to wait for.

In truth I feared the whole thing. I never wanted fame, all I had ever asked for was indifference to my appearance and recognition of my talent where it was due. When Gemma handed me the paper I took it with slightly shaking hands.

There I was, my tall, dark form standing menacingly over Thomas Ford. Westwood was beside and a little behind me; a most respectable ally. I supposed it could have been worse; at least my face was not exposed.

Then I read the story. I was depicted as a self-made man who had amassed a sizable fortune over the years by being a wise businessman and an extremely skilful architect. I had to laugh at how the facts of my life had been glossed over; not that the writer of this semi fiction knew that. Still, it was amusing to see how my time serving the wicked Sultana of Persia and then soliciting money from opera managers had been turning into shrewd business and architectural skill.

The article also reported that by all accounts, Gemma and I were blissfully happy. Apparently, I was the kind of man smart women like Miss Chevalier would now attach themselves to because I did not rely on family money alone.

In a continued description of me, the paper stated that I was not given to fashions overmuch and hardly cared about the social scene accept as far as it would profit me in a business sense. I was not old, I was matured, and possibly that was just the kind of person Miss Chevalier would need hold her reins.

When I finished I decided that it was by far the most flattering, if not a bit ridiculous, thing I had ever read about myself.

"Well?" Gemma asked me, "What do you think?"

"It is not terrible I suppose," I said, "But there was nothing in here about Ford." I had thought that the whole point of this had been revenge against him.

"Look at the picture," Gemma pointed quickly, "You see what is written under it? 'Erik Bonheur tossed Tom Ford out of his hotel after he paid an unwanted visit to Gemma Chevalier'"

"Maybe you know better than I but I do not find that particularly awful," I looked doubtfully at it.

"Trust me Erik," Gemma put her arms around my waist, "He is on the ground rejected and you are the new social ideal."

That was certainly a twisted turn of events.

I supposed that this was largely a matter that Gemma had to deal with as she saw fit. She would probably do more to Ford than just this. I just had to trust her.

Christmas was now imminent. Nadir and Victoria were going to stay for the holiday. They could have left days ago, but as Gemma assured them it was no trouble to keep the room in the hotel for them, they seemed content to stay and enjoy their first weeks of married life.

Unfortunately, this was one of those times Gemma had warned me about when she would have to go to a party and I would have to attend. The Christmas Ball was something Gemma was almost contractually bound to go to as most of the people who used her in shows and in other adds would be there.

I was not excited about the prospect. I had been to a ball with her before and I had not enjoyed myself; I doubted very much that anything would have changed.

Still I would be going. Nadir and Victoria would be there as well so I would have some allies. In addition, The Westwood's along with Katharine and Daria were coming and I was growing more comfortable with them.

I repeated this to myself over and over again as I dressed on Christmas Eve; that it would not be so miserable. It was really the only way I could get through it.

Gemma had left the bedroom for a moment and I went to the hiding place where I had stored the box containing her necklace. I opened it and took out the chain, wondering when I should give it to her and hoping she would like it.

At that moment Gemma came into the room and I quickly stuffed the necklace into my pocket. She looked stunning as always in a red dress specially made for her just for this event.

"Erik, this letter just came for you," She handed me an envelop.

I did not know who sent it but I had the feeling that it would not be good news. I opened and read.

_Dear Mr. Bonheur,_

_I apologize for the rush in which I write to you, so please forgive me if I forget some matters of decorum but time is of the essence. I am a priest in the town of Nottingham and have in my care a Marie Perrault. She claims to have known you, that you had been as a son to her. I know not if this is true but when she saw the picture of you in the paper recently she became adamant that she had cared for you as a child and that she had wished the duty of motherhood had fallen to her. I would not write you so, but poor Marie is in a weak state of health and may not live to see this New Year or even this Christmas. I know you are a man of importance and I am sorry for taking up some of your time but poor Marie had no other family and it does not seem right that the passing of such a lovely woman should go unnoticed by anyone that may have a connection to her. Please come and see her if you can,_

_Sincerely, Father MacFarlane_

"What is the matter darling?" Gemma looked at my grave expression.

"I never told you about Marie?" I felt my throat tightening as I thought of the woman who had cared for me so in my wrenched childhood.

"No," Gemma looked at me suspiciously, "Who is she?"

"Oh no one you need to feel threatened by you stilly girl," I snapped at her a bit in my sorrow, "She was like a mother to me as a child, she was the only kindness I knew, and now she is dying and I…I must go and see her. She has no one else."

Gemma nodded and to my surprise, "Of course; where is she?"

"Nottingham,"

"Yes; that is outside of London. I shall ring the front desk; they will know if we can take a train. If not then we shall hire a carriage."

I stared at her, "You…you are coming?"

She looked at me in honest surprise, "I thought…I'm sorry. Do you want me to or would you rather be alone?"

"Mustn't you attend this ball tonight?"

"I was supposed to yes but Erik I do not want you to have to go alone. It will not matter if I do not go to the ball. I want to come with you."

"Then you shall come," I said, touched that she was willing to go.

She nodded, "I'll go see about the train."

Within the hour we were headed off to the train station. It was actually very well that Gemma was coming because I was too distracted to be of any used whatsoever. Gemma was the one who packed two small bags for her and for myself and who arraigned and paid for the train tickets and for the carriage that took us to the station. She also saw to it that we boarded the correct train.

My mind was consumed with worry and regret. I remembered the awful vision of Marie the angel had given me. After leaving Paris I should have tried to find her. I was the closest thing to a son she had ever had. She was older now and it was my turn to have taken care of her. We could have been each other's last chances. I was the son she did not have and she was the mother I had not known.

I should have tried to find her! After all she had done for me, after showing me such kindness always even when she had no need to I should have repaid her. I could have helped her, with money, with whatever ailed her.

I did not even know how she had come to be in England and not in France! I did not know if she was suffering from some evil sickness or if age was finally claiming her. I did not even know if she would be alive when I arrived.

As I berated myself Gemma sat silently beside me, her hand resting reassuringly on my knee. She did not say a word to disturb my thoughts but only looked out the window, leaving me be; which was exactly what I wanted of her.

It took two exhausting hours to reach Nottingham and when we did I realized I had no idea where to go. Gemma told me to wait for a moment on the platform with the bags. She went off into the crowd, asking perfect strangers of they knew where she could find a Father MacFarlane. Someone must have told her because she returned to me and picked up her bag.

"Come on darling," She said softly, "We need a carriage."

We were taken to a church, next to which was also built a large house. There was a red cross over the door and I assumed it was a kind of hospital run by the rectory.

Gemma and I knocked on the door and a few moments later we were answered by a middle aged woman dressed as a nun. She held a candle to in her hand to light the darkness around her as she surveyed her visitors.

"I…I am here to see Marie Perrault," I said shakily, speaking for the first time in hours.

The woman looked at me, "Oh! You are Erik Bonheur aren't you?"

"Yes,"

"Please come in!" She stepped aside so that we could enter, "Marie will be so happy you came. She is sleeping now of course and normally I would not wake her but I shall make an exception."

"May I ask how she came to be here?" I asked as the woman led us down a dark hall with only a candle to guide our progress. Gemma followed silently as we went.

"Oh," The nun spoke, "It is such a sad tale. From what we gathered, while she was living in France she took in a man who had nowhere to go. For a while, I think he worked for her around her house, but soon enough they stuck up a romantic affair. Then the wicked man said that he had gotten a job in England. He told her that he would go there first and take her money so that he could buy a house for them and then he would send for her. Of course, he left and never sent for her. Her money was all gone and she came to England to find him. The poor thing never did of course but we took her in. She is the most caring and loving creature, I think she still believes he will send for her, but no one has ever come to claim her."

This story did nothing to cheer me or change my guilty mood. I should have come and claimed her.

We were led into a small room and the nun placed the candle down on the table by the bed. The rays fell on Marie as the nun gently woke her.

She looked so much older than when I had seen her last! She face was so thin and lined, her hair only gray strands.

"Is it morning?" I heard her mutter in the most feeble of voices.

"No Marie, but someone is here to see you." The nun stepped aside and Marie looked at me in shock. For a moment I thought she would scream but instead her eyes grew bright.

"Erik! Erik I knew you would come and see me! I told Father you would."

"Yes," I sat down on the edge of her bed, "I came as soon as I received his letter."

Marie smiled at me, "I was so happy to see you in the paper! I was so proud! I always knew you were a bright child, that you would do well for yourself. Is that her?" She nodded to Gemma who was standing behind me.

Gemma came forward into the candle light but said nothing, waiting for me to respond.

"What do you mean Marie?" I asked.

"That is your wife is it not? Oh Erik I was overjoyed to hear you were finally in love; that you were happy. It was all I ever wanted for you. I prayed so hard that you would find someone to love you, someone that deserved you."

The poor woman; she had misread that damn article! She thought Gemma and I were married!

"Yes Marie, I am his wife," Gemma said quickly and without letting Marie see she switched one of the rings she had been wearing to the proper finger. She knelt down beside the bed and showed her hand to Marie.

"What a beautiful ring!" Marie stared at Gemma for a few moments, "And what a beautiful wife you make my dear; you know, Erik's mother was very beautiful as well."

"She would have to be, to have such a handsome son," She spoke soothingly and evenly, offering Marie a small smiled.

"She never treated him as she ought to have though," Marie said, and her eyes dulled a bit, "It was an awful thing to watch."

"I am sure," Gemma said softly.

"She was something of a socialite herself," Marie continued, staring at Gemma, "But you won't act like that will you child? You will love him won't you?"

"Yes Marie," Gemma assured her, "I love him very much."

Marie smiled and closed her eyes for a moment before speaking again, "You will care for him won't you? That is the proper job of a wife; to care for her husband. I would not feel right if I were gone, knowing there was no one to care for him."

I felt hot liquid pressing against the back of my eyes and when I looked at Gemma I saw a tear roll down her cheek as well.

"Yes Marie you need not worry; I am going to watch over him, love him, and protect him," She whispered.

"There is a good girl! And such a beauty! The face of an angel darling, and what lovely dark hair!"

I shook my head, "Marie, Gemma has blond hair."

Marie stared at her and laughed, "Ah! So she does! Erik…thank you for coming to see me,"

"You needn't thank me Marie," I took her hand in mine, "I should have tried to find you long ago. Forgive me."

"Do not fret about the past child," She said, and her voice grew very soft, "Tell me about how you are now; tell me what that brilliant mind of yours is doing! Will you be starting a family soon?"

I knew of course that it was better to lie to the poor woman and let her pass in peace.

"I…I have been building houses," I told her, and I did my best to not appear upset and angry that fate had brought me to her too late, "I was working for Gemma's father, that is how we met."

"That's lovely dear," Marie smiled serenely.

"We…we will be starting a family soon," I said a bit uncertainly, casting my eyes at Gemma momentarily. She smiled at me and nodded.

"Good good," Marie closed her eyes, "How many will you have?"

"I…I think that is up to my wife," I squeezed Marie's hand a little. I could not really believe that this was the last conversation I would have with my former protector and we were talking about such things. They were silly details and plans made even more ridiculous because they were not real. I felt as though I should be saying something more important.

"Lots, we plan on having lots of children," Gemma said, her hand on Marie's shoulder, "Erik is going to build a special house for us all to live in by the ocean."

"Oh!" Marie sighed, "That will be so nice for you Erik; to have a house full of children running around. I had always wished I had brothers and sisters…the ocean! What a lovely place to live…peaceful I would imagine." She looked blissfully peaceful herself, her eyes lightly closed and her lips tilted slightly upward. I wondered if she was thinking of the beach, I wondered if she could hear ocean waves…

"Yes, we are going to be a very happy family," I told her.

Marie laughed a little, "Oh Erik how perfect! That is what…what we always wanted for you…your mother and I. A good wife, and happy little children to make you proud…I am so proud of you Erik…my son…"

Her son; I could remember no one else calling me their son. I did not know how much longer I could remain composed.

"I wanted to see you child, one last time," Marie opened her eyes and looked at me once again. "Was I good enough to you Erik? Did you ever…think of me as a mother?"

"Yes," I swallowed hard and mustered the strength to speak without breaking down, "You raised me well please believe me I am a much better man for having you as a mother."

"So I was your mother then? I did do something worth while?" She asked in a heartbreakingly hopeful voice.

"Yes, yes you did."

Marie seemed to relax then, a sharp contrast to my own emotions which could not be held a bay. Tears rolled down my cheeks unchecked.

Through the watery haze of them, I saw Marie look over to Gemma.

"It is time now isn't it?" Marie asked and I saw Gemma nod ever so slightly.

"Do not be afraid Marie," I thought I heard Gemma whisper back to her though I may have been imagining it; I was crying so that I could not be sure.

I watched the life leave poor Marie. It was odd how one just knew when there was one less soul in the room. She had been fighting so hard to stay just to see me again, me of all people! I had been a son to her and I had repaid her wickedly. I should have come to her sooner! I could have taken her away from this foreign place and cared for her. We could have lived as mother and son.

I realized then why she asked me of family and of happy plans; she wanted to be proud of the son she had raised. It hurt most bitterly to know that it had been lies; I hoped that Marie would ascend to a place where she would never hear the truth.

Sliding off the bed so that my back was resting on it while I sat on the floor I wept for Marie, holding my face in my hands. It took me a moment to realize the Gemma was beside me, that her arms were around me and that my head was resting on her chest.

We stayed there until I felt I could cry no more. I have no idea how long that was, but by this time the candle had burned very low.

"I was a son to her and I failed her," I said bitterly, whipping my unmasked cheek dry.

"You did not fail her darling," Gemma said softly, "You made her proud, you made her happy…you gave her the peace she needed to move on."

"I lied to her!" I cried, angry with myself.

"You did not lie about being a better man because of her, and that was the important part."

I pulled away from Gemma so that I could look her in the eye. She appeared genuinely saddened over the death of Marie and over the pain I was suffering because of it. Her words had comforted me in a way that I had not expected.

"Thank you Gemma."

She shook her head and embraced me again, "I love you Erik."

I never tired of hearing those words and I believed Gemma knew that.

"What am I to do now?" I wondered aloud in despair.

"Shall I go and find that nun?" Gemma asked me softly, and for the first time I realized that she was no longer in the room. "She should know…" Gemma did not finish but I knew she was talking about what was to be done with the body and the funeral.

"Yes, I suppose you better." When I thought of burying Marie my heart broke.

Gemma kissed my forehead once before standing and leaving the room, leaving me alone with Marie. I stood as well and looked at her. At least her face was peaceful; she had not been in any great pain. In fact it seemed she had not been sick but rather that the years of her life had simply run out. It was the natural way of things, but still it seemed so cruel.

I was a better man because of Marie, I had not been lying about that. She had taught me the kindness without which I would have been lost long ago. Marie had taught me to be human, not monster.

Gemma returned a few moments later with the nun.

"So she has passed?" She looked at Marie sadly, "Well, we knew it was coming to that. At least you arrived here in time Mr. Bonheur."

I only nodded.

"You need not worry about burial; we can do that here."

"Yes," I sighed, "I think that would be best," It would have been difficult to transport her body back to France.

"I am sorry sister; we do not even know your name," Gemma said softly to the nun.

"Sister Constance," She said kindly, "Tell me, do you have a place to stay for the night?"

"No," I said somberly, "We came here without plans."

Sister Constance nodded, "I am afraid that we have no rooms open, but you are welcome to stay in the living room. There is no bed but we could make you comfortable enough. I fear that at this hour you have little choice; all the inns are closed."

"Thank you Sister," Gemma said, and once again I was glad she was there as she was able to attend to such things as proper manners and sleeping plans. I was far too shaken and depressed to think about any of it.

Sister Constance led us to a living room where we set down our bags. I sat on a sofa and let my head fall onto my hands. I could not get the thought poor Marie wondering England alone with nowhere to stay out of my head; it was all my fault.

While I brooded, Gemma and Sister Constance brought in a few blankets. When I looked I saw that a man was with them; Father MacFarlane.

He smiled at me, "I heard we had our very own Mary and Joseph tonight."

I raised my eyebrows. I was not sure what I was expecting from a priest, but a joke was certainly not it.

"We are glad to have you here," He said to me, "Marie has not stopped talking about you since the day she saw that paper."

"I only wish I could have come sooner," I muttered gravely.

"You came soon enough," He assured me, "I am only sorry that we cannot accommodate you and your wife better."

I stared at Gemma for a moment, she had lied to the priest. I regretted having to lie to Marie, and though I was not a religious man, I did not like the thought of lying to a priest either.

"We appreciate all you have done for us," I said.

"Not at all! This is a church after all isn't it?" MacFarlane seemed quite jolly considering the late hour and the passing of Marie. "I do have to warn the two of you; in the morning this is where we hold our Christmas celebration; mass is at ten and then the whole congregation will be back here."

"Father may I ask why the tree is not decorated?" Gemma was staring at the quite feeble looking tree in the middle of the room.

"Oh!" MacFarlane merely glanced at it, "We lost most of the decorations we had in a fire about a year ago; never seemed prudent to spend money on new ones."

"How awful," Gemma said in a very polite, respectful manner.

"Actually it was rather ironic; the fire was started by a Christmas tree in the first place!" He appeared genuinely amused by this.

Gemma laughed, "May I say you have a very well developed sense of humor for a priest."

He threw up his hands, "I'm Irish! It cannot be helped!" He laughed and shook his head, "You two sleep well now; Happy Christmas!"

With that he and Sister Constance left.

"You lied to a priest?" I asked Gemma immediately.

She shook her head.

"Well then why on earth does he think we are married?"

"Erik, I think he was just being kind to us. He knows we aren't married, it is just his way of telling us it is alright if we pass the night in the same room."

"Oh," I sighed and sat back on the sofa.

"I shan't be asking for an apology for accusing me of lying," Gemma smiled at me, coming to sit next to me, "Erik…maybe you should try to sleep."

I shook my head, "Impossible; but do not let me keep you if you are tired."

Gemma stood again, "That is such a sad little tree is it not?"

"I suppose," I hardly cared.

I was deep in depressing thoughts as I watched Gemma in the dim light provided by the several candles which had been left to us. She was still wearing her posh red party dress which would now never see the grand parties it had been made for.

Fascinated, my eyes followed her as she walked back to her bag and pulled out a dress.

"Gemma I really do not think this is the time for a costume change."

She just laughed. I looked on in amazement as the odd girl commenced in ripping the lace off the thing.

"What on earth are you doing?"

"Erik this is the most depressing place I have ever been and I think I should change that if I can."

"Gemma this should be a depressing place! People die here! It…it is not right to feel happiness after someone you care for has passed away."

"Erik if that were true no one would be happy…ever." She continued to rip her dress to shreds, "Darling I understand that you are upset by all of this; I am to believe me! I hate to see you hurt," She set down her dress for a moment and came to me, kneeling in front of me, "Whatever you need to help you through this I am more than willing to do for you; you need only ask. But Erik my love," She laid her hand on my knee, "It will not dishonor the memory of Marie to be a little happy…or to decorate a tree…will it?"

I stared down at her, "Give me that dress will you? I think it would do me some good to rip something."

Gemma excitedly threw the thing and me and took up some of the lace, beginning to place it on the tree.

"This is going to look marvelous darling," She smiled broadly at me.

"No, it is going to look as though a tree fell into your closet."

Gemma laughed softly, "There is the dry man I love."

"You know we never had Christmas when I was young," I said suddenly.

"Really?" Gemma prompted me.

"No; my mother was not one for celebrating, not after I was born in any case. She hated me because of my face you know," I tore Gemma's dress in half, "Truly, the only present I ever received was from Marie."

Gemma stared at me, "How awful; Erik I am so sorry."

"Marie watched me once while my mother went out; I put a spider on her shoulder." I tore Gemma's dress again.

"You were only a boy Erik, that is what boys do," Gemma said, taking the sash from her dress and winding it around the tree.

"Do you know what she did to me?" I asked bitterly, "Nothing; she did not even tell my mother! And I never thanked her for that…for any of it."

"She knew Erik."

"Perhaps," I sighed. I just watched for a few moments as Gemma arraigned scraps of fabric in the most extraordinary way. She draped long, thin pieced like garlands and then formed little balls with others that she nestled in the branches of the tree. Still other scraps she tied in bows. The lace and beading of the dress hung from the boughs like snow.

"Erik do you want to…tell me…about you past?"

"What do you mean?" I asked sharply, ever suspicious of anyone prying into my affairs.

"I mean about your childhood…about Marie or your mother…you do not have to if you do not wish to I just thought you might…want to talk about it."

"There is little to tell," I said shortly, "My childhood was miserable, through no fault of Marie's. I left home when I was nine…or was I ten? I do not remember any more."

I felt a great shaking rising in my body as I thought back and a bitter loathing at the fact that now Marie was gone and I had allowed her to spend so much of her life here alone.

"Gemma," I grabbed her suddenly and she gasped a little in surprise, "Many, many times I feel I am finally at peace with my past and then…then something will happen that stirs my emotions once again and I fear that I will never be rid of the pain!"

How many times did I have to travel down the road of my past, stopping in the way stations of forgiveness and acceptance before I could finally get off this hellish highway? Seeing Marie again made me think of my mother by birth and of the first painful years of my life.

The truth was that though I forgave my mother for all she had done, I still carried some of the pain she had caused me and thinking of the past brought it back to me. To compound this I had failed Marie, the one alleviation from my suffering as a child.

"Erik," I had forgotten I had been gripping Gemma tightly and I relaxed my grasp, "No it is alright," She said quickly, "Hold me as tight as you need to."

I shook my head and moved away from her, "I need to be alone for awhile…I need to think."

"Erik you aren't thinking," Gemma said slowly and softly, "You are chastising yourself. I shall not tell you that you cannot change what has already happened; these words are meaningless to you now. Still, I hope you will remember them later."

She came toward me and laid her hand on my cheek in the most comforting way. "Erik of course the past still hurts you. It is one of the cruelties of time; you cannot go back and right the wrongs but they can still reach out to you in the present. I know that some days something sparks a hidden memory and a cloud will pass over your eyes. You are a prisoner to you mind; taken back against you will."

Without quite realizing what I was doing I put my arms around her wanting to feel the warmth of her body close to mine.

"Erik it is only a temporary abduction," Gemma continued softly, "Your present shall ransom you from the dark camp of your memory. You need not dwell there forever."

"You feel this way to then?" I asked her.

She nodded, "I cannot build a wall to keep in my mind any more than you can. I ran from home to once remember? I had no where to go…nothing to live on…sometimes I am paralyzed with the thought of that state of helplessness."

"I never see you that way," I told her.

She shook her head, "I hide it well…too well I think."

"When you feel this way, how to you forget the past again?" I asked, drawing her closer to me. It was impossible to deny the comfort of her embrace.

"Decorate trees."

I was forced to laugh a bit despite myself, "So that is why the plant in the hotel room has a necklace on it."

Gemma laughed as well, "I thought about giving in earrings but that would just be foolish don't you think?"

"Quite," I kissed her forehead, "Shall we then?" She nodded and we went back to the tree.

By the time we had finished it was growing light outside. Gemma had pulled out another of her dresses so in all we had adorned the tree with two of them.

Despite my earlier prediction I found that I was able to sleep. The sofa was hardly comfortable but I found emotional exhaustion sufficient to give me rest. Gemma lay there to, my arm wrapped around her waist…it was well that we were married.

Sunlight woke me the next morning and for one blissful moment I forgot where I was; then it all came back to me. I groaned in realization.

"Erik? Are you awake?" Gemma asked me.

"Yes why?"

"I have to sit up!" She cried, quickly sitting upright, "That was the most uncomfortable night I have ever spent! I would have moved hours ago but I did not want to wake you. You were so peaceful…snoring away…" She turned and smiled at me.

"I do not snore,"

"You do and you are adorable when you do it," She laughed, bending and pressing her lips quickly to mine.

"You had better not let Sister Constance see you do that," I teased her.

"It doesn't matter; we are married remember."

"Oh yes," I kissed her again, "How could I forget."

"Erik," Gemma smiled at me, "Merry Christmas,"

"Oh! That reminds me," I reached into my pocket, "I have something for you," I had never taken the necklace out and it had successfully made the trip to Nottingham with us, "I hope you like it," I opened my hand to show her.

"Oh Erik," She gasped, "It's beautiful!" She took it from my hand and inspected it.

"Here, let me," I sat up as well, feeling a thousand aches in my back as I did so. I took the necklace from her and put it around her neck.

Gemma looked down, "It is perfect Erik; thank you so much!"

"There is more," I told her, "But I left it back at the room in London."

"Erik you did not have to get me anything."

"I wanted to,"

"Is that where you went that day you disappeared on me?" She smiled as I nodded, "You are a sly one Erik Bonheur."

I stared at her for a moment.

"What is it Erik?" She asked.

"Gemma, Bonheur is not my last name," In the spirit of trusting her and opening myself to her I thought she might as well know.

"What do you mean?" She looked confused.

"I never knew my last name. My mother never told me…Bonheur is just something I invented."

"Erik I'm so sorry; I never knew you had such an awful mother," She said softly.

I shook my head, "She was not awful, she was just not ready for me."

"I am glad then…that you do not think ill of her memory. As for the name," She laughed, "Well darling, I do not care about a name. A rose by any other would smell as sweet would it not?"

I had to admit I was surprised by her understanding, surprised and also…touched. She was looking at me with a slight gleam in her eye.

"What?"

"Out of all the names in the world you chose Bonheur?" She teased me.

"It means good luck," I defended my choice, "I suppose you would have picked something different?"

"Of course, I would keep Gemma; I love that name. However Chevalier I could do without. Perhaps Hapsburg or Shakespeare."

"Gemma Shakespeare?" I laughed at her.

"You are right, Gemma Hapsburg is better."

"If it is royalty you seek you failed mistrably by 'marrying' me."

She smiled, "What do you think of Gemma Bonheur?"

I stared at her and she stared back at me. I wondered if she had thought about what she was saying before she said it. For a moment we simply gazed at each other in wonder and anticipation; who would speak first? What she was suggesting, that perhaps one day she could really become my wife, was more than I could have hoped for.

As fate would have it, neither of us got a chance to speak any more about marriage.

"Good! You two are awake! Come along, mass is going to begin soon!" Sister Constance was an amazingly cheery woman for it being so early in the morning.

"Well, I guess we should be going," Gemma stood, stretching her arms and legs.

"Going? Going where?" I asked.

"To mass!"

"No," I said firmly, "I do not attend mass,"

"Erik," Gemma spoke quietly in case a nun or God might overhear, "These people let us stay for the night, they have been very kind to us; it would be rude not to go!"

"Gemma I am not going,"

"Erik,"

It was frightening how simply by saying my name and giving me a stern look she could make me feel obligated to do whatever she said. I had only heard about such womanly powers before and quite frankly I was terrified of them. She seemed to have developed this skill remarkably fast; I had thought it would take at least another year before she could do that.

So, owing solely to Gemma's powers of persuasion we found ourselves in an interesting migration toward the church we had only glimpsed in the darkness the night before. We were by no means alone on our trek. Every inhabitant of the hospital that could walk was now on the move, not to mention the many residents of the town itself. Children ran past us and up to the steps of the stone cathedral and from behind I could hear their parent's voices, calling to them to slow down.

As we walked I heard a few whispers from the crowd around us. There were quite a few young women there and I was sure some of them recognized Gemma.

In no time we were passing under the old roof of the church. I felt a chill run up my spine; I knew I was being overdramatic. I was no devil, just a man…a man who had turned his back on religion long ago.

We took our place in a pew and waited for the service to begin. My mind was on other things; I thought of Marie and when we would hold her funeral, and I thought of Gemma Bonheur. I kept glancing at the woman next to me, at Gemma, and I wondered if it was possible that she would be beside me forever.

I was amazed at how crowded the church was, which I suppose was foolish; it was Christmas after all. I was seated at the end of the pew so that the only one who would be next to me would be Gemma. Next to her there was a large family with two older daughters, one young son and a little baby. Their parents seemed to be having quite a time controlling them. The girls were constantly looking at Gemma and whispering while the little boy was tugging on the hair of the little girl in the pew in front of him.

Every so often I would glance around at the people surrounding us and more and more I found that they looked away from me quickly, as though they did not want me to catch them staring. I did not need this! I had been through enough with the death of Marie; I did not have to put up with their stares, not today.

I made to leave and Gemma grabbed my arm.

"Erik! Where are you going?" She whispered forcefully.

"Everyone is staring at me," I growled back.

"I know,"

"Well unlike you, I do not enjoy being gawked at for me looks,"

"Erik!" She looked up at me, "They aren't looking at you because of that! It's because of your singing!"

It was only than that I realized I had even been singing. I had been in a trance, simply going though the motions of the mass. Of course, I had sung when everyone else had.

"Stay Erik, everything is fine," Gemma whispered soothingly, stroking my arm.

One man caught my eye. He was an elderly fellow, his wife stood next to him, totally engaged in the mass and ignoring me. He looked directly at me and smiled, lifting his book of hymns a little as if to say, bravo sir.

I looked back at Gemma, who was smiling almost proudly.

"Go on Erik," She whispered, "Keep singing,"

The organ at the front of the church begun to play; we had come to another song. I began to sing along with the rest of the congregation, reading the words out of the book that had been in the pew when we had sat down.

For the first time I noticed that around me, people were actually singing more quietly; presumably to hear me! It was certainly a strange place to have my first audience but still…I had never had that many people listen to me sing. I have to say, I rather enjoyed it.

After the endless choruses of amen and bless you, the mass concluded. I expected that everyone would file out rather quickly but I was mistaken. A widespread gossip ensued as the congregation members exchanged greetings, news, and wised each other happy Christmas.

"Are you Gemma Chevalier?" One of the young women who was sitting in our pew asked her excitedly, and I noticed her sister lean in to hear the answer.

"No, I'm sorry you are mistaken," Gemma said quickly. What the girls answered to this we were not destined to find out because Gemma quickly turned to me. "Perhaps we should go into the town and find somewhere to stay for the night. We can come back to make arrangements for the funeral later, when these people have all gone home."

I nodded and we started to leave.

"I am not sure," I said, looking around, "If there will be anyone there to let us a room; it seems as though the whole town is in this church at the moment."

"Agreed," Gemma threw her coat around her shoulders, "But I feel we must try, unless we want to sleep on that sofa again."

Merely entertaining this prospect sent aching pains through up and down my back.

Gemma and I left the church and for the first time I really looked at the town around me. The round was blanketed with crisp white snow; the think cover which hung on the roof tops and clung to the boughs of the trees sparkled in the sun. It was a quaint place; lots of little houses and shops lining the dirt roads.

We walked along, looking for an inn of some kind. I assumed that quite a bit of snow had fallen the night before because the streets and sidewalks were still pilled with it. The cuffs of my pants and the hem of Gemma's dress were already wet.

"Gemma why did you tell those girls in the church you weren't…you?" I asked as we walked away from the church and into the town.

"I did not want the attention," She explained plainly, hooking her arm through mine, "These days should be about burying Marie…and about you and I, about our first Christmas together." She smiled up at me, "Their complete and utter love for me, though touching," I laughed at this, "Would just get in the way."

"My my, I never thought I would see the day when Gemma Chevalier would not want the spotlight," I teased her.

Gemma swatted me with her other hand, "You wicked man! I'll never understand why I put up with you."

"Come now Gemma; I am irritable, unsociable, and stubborn…you are lucky to have me."

She laughed, "You are quite a catch; I do not know how I got along without you for so long."

"Not that long; how old are you? Fifteen? Sixteen?" I asked mockingly.

"For your sake I should hope not," Gemma countered quickly, squeezing my arm, "How old are you? One hundred, three hundred?"

"A gentleman never tells," I gave her my best Mona Lisa's smile.

She shook her head, "Erik…you are not gentleman."

"Come now! That is not fair!" I spoke in faux anger, "I open doors and give you gifts…I do not objectify you as a marital prize as other gentleman do but I am doing my best to improve in that."

Gemma laughed so loudly that quite a few people on the street stared at her. It was surprising how much activity was going on around us on this Christmas morning. They were running in and out of shops, buying last minute ingredients for Christmas dinner, visiting neighbors, children were running around with brand new sleds, rounding up their friends. It felt good to be out in the fresh air, surrounded by a happy bustle. It made my sadness ebb a bit.

"There is an inn across the street," Gemma motioned and we crossed. There was a sign on the door saying that the keepers were at the church but would be back soon. It also said that there was a café down the street where anyone could wait.

"Oh Erik lets go!" Gemma quickly set off down the street, "I'm starving! You realize we haven't eaten since yesterday afternoon?"

I had not realized but the moment she brought it to my attention I could think of little else save my empty stomach.

This little café was, unlike the streets outside, completely deserted.

"I am not so sure this place is actually open for business," I muttered to Gemma as we walked in.

"Please do not say such a cruel thing to me," Gemma whispered back.

Our fears were allied however a moment later when a rotund middle aged man came out of the kitchen and motioned to us.

"Come in! Happy Christmas! Take a seat; you have your pick," He spoke jovially, especially for a man who was working on a holiday.

Gemma picked a seat close to the window, so we could watch the passersby on the streets; a favorite pastime of hers.

The man, who introduced himself as Henry, gave us menus and left us for a few moments as we pondered what to order.

"I think I will have eggs…or maybe a crêpe…I would love a crêpe! I do not think they have them though; I suppose that is more of a French dish," Gemma rambled on as she inspected the menu.

A few moments later Henry returned.

"What can I get for you sir?" He asked me, noticing that Gemma was still scanning her menu.

"I'll have the egg and ham sandwich,"

"Very good, and for your wife?" He turned to Gemma. I actually saw her blush a bit at being addressed in such a manner.

"Could I have the large order of pancakes, a side of toast and a few strips of bacon?"

Henry nodded, "Anything to drink?"

"Coffee," We spoke in one voice.

"Excellent; I'll start your order right away." He scurried off to the kitchen again.

"Oh I hope he hurries," Gemma looked anxiously after Henry.

"My lord! One would think you hadn't eaten in weeks!" I laughed at her.

She shrugged, "Being married to you works up an apatite in a girl,"

To Gemma's dismay, it did indeed take Henry a time to prepare our food but when it came the fare proved well worth the wait. I had to admit, there was something charming about the way Gemma hungrily devoured her food; completely devoid of all ladylike manners.

After breakfast we were lucky enough to obtain the last room in the small hotel. The room might have served as a closet in one of Gemma's usual rooms; even I was used to much better. However it was leaps and bounds ahead of the diminutive sofa we had experienced the night before.

One short nap later we were headed back for the church. We entered the hospital where we had slept, reasoning that this would be the best place to find Father MacFarlane.

However, the moment we stepped inside we noted a change. The quiet, depressing place we had entered the night before was gone. We heard music and laughter, the sounds of children playing and of adults singing Christmas Carols.

I looked at Gemma and she shrugged, "I suppose they are having a Christmas party."

"I did not think nuns and priests were celebratory."

"I believe they are simply celibate," Gemma spoke, a small smile of satisfaction at her own wit playing about her lips.

"You are just so clever aren't you?" I shook my head and could not help but smile.

We reached the center of the ruckus; it was none other than our makeshift bedroom from the night before. The moment we entered Sister Constance hurried up to us.

"Everyone just loves the tree!" She exclaimed, "However did you do it?"

"It was our pleasure," Gemma said quickly, "After you showed us so much kindness it was the least we could do."

"Nonsense," Father MacFarlane suddenly appeared at my elbow, "That was very kind of you and our whole congregation appreciates it. Now then, enough silly business, I know you want to make arrangements for Marie but that will have to wait for tomorrow. In the meantime I urge you; enjoy our little party! Christmas comes but once a year after all!"

I was ready to leave immediately but Gemma had other plans. A little girl pulled her away, asking if it would be alright for her to braid her hair, because she looked so much like her dolly.

As was my usual method, I headed for the corner and hoped to be left alone. Once again, Gemma had other plans. A gaggle of children had gathered around her and she kept sending them over to me, asking me questions Gemma had clearly taught them. It got to be such a damn nuisance that I was obliged to join Gemma in the middle of the room.

I sung to them, whatever they asked to hear. Gemma and others joined me sometimes but I became the main entertainment. None of this would have been possible had one of the parents, seeing my involvement with the children, not seen to it that I had a constant supply of drink; spiced rum I believed.

The party wore itself out and we eventually left.

"You are very good with children you know," Gemma said as we walked back to our tiny hotel.

"No…I am very drunk," I said slowly; suddenly walking in the snow was harder than I remembered. "I am a very good drunk."

Gemma laughed and took hold of my arm, trying to guide me, "I hope you are a good drunk because I am not going to be able to help you should you go bad and say, fall down."

"I won't…fall," I said, slipping and nearly falling even as I spoke.

Gemma laughed and tightened her grip on my arm, "Perhaps we should not talk until we reach the room; concentrate on walking darling."

I did make it to the room…but I did not stop talking.

"You know how long it has been since I have sung that much? Well, I guess I did sing when I was teaching you." I rambled on.

"Mmmhumm," Gemma nodded, removing my coat for me and motioning for me to sit down on the bed.

"But I haven't sung in so long! Christine nearly killed it for me!"

"Really?" Gemma said, humoring me drunken mood. She stooped and untied my shoes for me, removing them, bless her heart, so that I would not ruin the bed because it was obvious to us both that I would be lying down.

"Yes!" I exclaimed, "After the whole affair at the opera I never thought I would sing again!"

"The opera?"

"Yes! After being the phantom…"

Through my giddy haze I realized I had gone too far. I had let my guard down around Gemma because I loved her, I trusted her. I had been so delighted with how well the party had actually gone; sitting there in the middle of everything, signing; Gemma with a child on her lap…maybe someday our child…

I had wondered onto the thinnest of ice and had thought nothing of it. Now it was too late. Gemma had seen the papers, she knew the gossip…she knew!

Gemma looked up at me. I had been quickly sobered when I realized what I had done and I could clearly read a mix of surprise and pleasure in Gemma's eyes. I shook my head and blinked, assuming my vision must still be impaired by alcohol. Surprise and pleasure were not proper emotions to have after learning of my dark past.

"Erik," Gemma said calmly, placing her hand on my knee, "I know."

She could have knocked me over with one of her delicate fingers. Wonderfully

"What?" I stammered, "How could you possibly?"

Gemma smiled, "Erik you are forgetting who I am! Salacious gossip swirls around me like the winds of a tempest! I was _in_ Paris when the story of Raoul de Chagny and his singer lover were all anyone would speak of. I attended the opera countless times; the dancers were always at the parties I went to. I knew the _ledged_ of the Opera Ghost." Gemma laughed as she spoke, "When Gisele wrote to me of a masked man who had just moved out to the coast I reasoned the truth."

I knew my mouth was open as I listened to her story but I did not have the power to close it.

"Why…why didn't you ever say anything?" I asked in shock, "How could you _possibly_ sustain from asking me about it?"

Gemma sighed and moved to sit next to me on the bed.

"There were a few reasons," She took my hand in hers, "When I met you I planned on asking you about it. I believed that you would be willing to make some sort of plan with me to ruin Raoul. You see, it annoyed me that for so long he was given so much attention in Paris just because he ran off with some _soprano_." She spoke with unmasked distain in her voice. The kind of petty revenge plot she was describing struck me as just the sort of thing the Gemma Chevalier I had once read about in the society columns would do.

"But…but you never mentioned anything," I said. _Not_ seeking reprisal for weeks of agitating rumors that focused on an enemy did not seem like Gemma Chevalier.

Gemma nodded, "I know; I was planning on waiting awhile in any case, just to see if I could trust you or if you were an eccentric lunatic. Once I discovered your character I was planning on letting you know my intentions."

"So you discovered I was an eccentric lunatic and decided I would be of no use in your little game?" I did not know how to feel; shocked that Gemma had known the truth all along, or offended that she had not asked me to aid her in hurting Raoul…something I most likely would have done at the time in the wake of my anger over Gisele.

"No," Gemma squeezed my hand, "I discovered that you were…really quite amazing. I found your gruff manor and sarcasm irresistible." She smiled and kissed my cheek, "I realized that I would rather have you as a friend…and a lover, then mix you up in petty revenge." Gemma looked down at her lap and lowered her voice, "Besides, when I found out how…_sensitive_…you were to your face, I did not want to bring up that past. I did not want to anger you."

"Gemma," I said heavily, "I had no idea…you cared about my anger; I thought you just did as you pleased."

She hit my shoulder, almost knocking me off the bed.

"That was not the best choice of words," I said quickly.

"I should think not."

"Gemma, what I meant was," I paused. I did not know what I meant and in my current state I knew I would not be able to articulate it. Gemma knew my greatest secrets; she knew the look of my face and the nature of my past. She knew all of this, and she loved me anyway.

"Gemma what I mean is I love you," Funny though, these words were more accurate than any other response I could have invented, even sober.

She moved her hand to my back, moving it in gentle circles, something which felt quite relaxing, especially after spending the afternoon with screaming children.

"I know darling," Gemma said, "You see Erik; we are meant for each other; _we_ are the two most infamous people in Paris."

I laughed a hardy, full kind of laugh. It was only something I had developed since I had met Gemma.

"You do have a point there," I fell back on the bed, taking Gemma with me, "We do make quite a pair."

"We do indeed,"

That was the last thing I remembered her saying before I finally fell asleep.

The funeral for Marie was held the next day. It was a very simple service in the grave yard behind the church. Gemma and I along with a few of the friends Marie had made while staying at the church were the only guests besides Father MacFarlane and Sister Constance.

For a funeral it was actually rather nice. The sky was clear blue and the sun shown a bright cold yellow. The fresh snow from the night before glittered in the fields and decorated the tomb stones, making even these grim markers appear picturesque.

Father MacFarlane said a few words as the wooden casket was lowered into the ground. Since her death I had already begun to heal from the guilt but the ceremony brought it all crashing back to me. The funeral had barely started when my eyes became heavy with tears.

I felt a new emotion welling up inside of me. It was such a waste that I had not found Marie sooner and I knew I would never stop regretting my actions. This deep regret twisted so painfully in the pit of my stomach I vowed never again to make this same mistake. There would be no more regrets in my life. Even if I got hurt along the way, that could not feel as bad as this remorse.

Gemma put her hand on my back. Through my winter coat it was difficult to feel the pressure of this little gesture but it was comforting none the less.

By that night we had said good bye to the Father and Sister Constance. We thanked them over and over again for their kindness and Gemma promised that she would donate money for the repairs that were needed in the hospital and the church. That night we took a train back to London.

The busy city was a sharp contrast to the quaint town of Nottingham. The moment we stepped onto the platform we were surrounded by crowds of swirling travelers.

"Quite a change isn't it?" I said to Gemma as we were jostled along by the flow of people, slowly making our way toward a carriage.

"Indeed," Gemma agreed, dodging out of the way as a large man wearing a giant Russian style fur hat rushed by, "I know it is difficult to believe, but I actually miss this hustle."

"I thought you were going to move out to Deauville with me and we were going to live there away from all of this."

"Oh…well…"

I laughed, "I am only teasing you Gemma; I discovered that Deauville is really quite depressing in the winter."

"Oh! Good then," Gemma smiled at me.

We found a carriage and at long last we arrived back at the hotel that had become our home in London.

"Miss Chevalier! I have quite a few messages for you…" The concierge tried to flag down Gemma as we entered.

"I shall take them tomorrow," She yawned. Truly we were exhausted; the past few days had been very taxing. Emotional stress, little sleep, church, children, and hours of train travel; I had never been more relieved to see that old familiar door at the end of the hall.

"Oh! It feels so good to be back here." Gemma dropped unceremoniously down on the sofa and removed her shoes, rubbing her feet.

"I have never agreed with you more darling," I seconded, throwing down our luggage and practically falling onto the sofa next to her. "We might have to sleep here Gemma; I do not think I can move."

"Come on Erik," Gemma patted my knee and stood in one quick motion, as though if she did not do it quickly she would not be able to do it at all, "Just a few more feet and we can sleep in our soft, warm, _large_ bed."

"Damn you woman; when you put it that way our bed sounds so appealing," I resented having to move from the sofa but the prospect of the bed sounded too good.

Our bed however was well worth the extra yard. We stripped off our clothes, too tired to re dress in night clothes or to feel any kind of arousal. Gemma would be a beautiful, sensual woman in the morning when I was rested.

"Good night Erik; I love you," She whispered, and I watched her eyes close.

"Good night my love," I kissed the top of her head. I laid there for a moment but as much as I wanted to, I could not fall right to sleep. "Gemma?"

"Yes?" She muttered, her eyes still closed.

"Do you imagine that this is how our life will be if we are married?"

"What do you mean?"

"Going to bed without making love?"

Gemma laughed, moving closer to me and throwing her arm over my chest, "You have the strangest thoughts were you are sleep deprived."

"I am serious!" I laughed, knowing I had never been less serious in my life. It was a funny, almost drunk feeling; I was so tired I spoke without thinking, "We are going to become a boring old married couple."

"That shan't happen Erik," Gemma said, nestling against me.

"Why not?"

"I won't let it,"

"How do you intent on preventing it?"

"By dressing up as a ghost and haunting our house; seducing you with music."

"You are going to bring that up more now aren't you?"

"Of course."

"I suppose I had that coming,"

"Erik?"

"Yes?"

"I love you; but you _must_ go to sleep."

I laughed softly, kissing the top of her head again, "As you wish my darling; good night."

We both slept well into the afternoon the next day but this was the end of our relaxation. Nadir came barging in not long after we had woken, asking where we had been and why I had not told him where I was going. He seemed rather put out that I had not told him or perhaps that I had not needed his help. In any case he required a detailed description of the last few days.

Gemma was in trouble for missing the Christmas party and had to run off to a show that afternoon. She left in a hurry; needing to arrive early to get in _costume_. I was still talking to Nadir when Gemma went out the door, leaving the address of the show with me in case I wanted to come by later.

"So she…she went with you to Nottingham then?" Nadir asked once Gemma had gone.

"That is what I told you is it not?" I was getting tired of Nadir's constant suspicion of Gemma.

"That was kind of her,"

"She is a kind woman," I poured myself some searing hot coffee, thankful for the hot drink, "She knows Nadir."

"She knows what?"

"She knows who I was; she knows about the opera."

Nadir's eyes expanded to the size of dinner plates, "What! You _told_ her?"

"Well yes and no," I shrugged, sipping the coffee, "I told her, but she knew already; she reasoned it out before she even met me."

"And she is comfortable with that knowledge?" Nadir asked in shock.

"Yes," I said, rather offended, "Why shouldn't she be?"

"Erik," Nadir shook his head, "It was not exactly your finest moment! Do not misunderstand; I am happy for you that she has accepted your past. It is simply that…that information is a lot to handle. I wonder how it is that she can be so _tolerant_."

"Did you ever think Nadir," I began, leaning forward a bit angrily, "That it might just be because she loves me?"

Judging by the look on his face this idea had never occurred to him.

"Erik; do you trust her?" Nadir asked.

"Yes," I spoke with absolute certainty, "I didn't, not for a long time; but Nadir, especially after this trip to Nottingham…I do trust her. I love her."

Nadir sighed, "I am glad to see you happy Erik and Gemma does seem to be quite perfect, but I do want you to be careful Erik. I would hate to see you hurt."

I shook my head. Every day I worried about getting hurt, about the glares from the passersby on the street, about the animosity I faced from society. My heart was so tired of worrying. I did not believe that I had one more ounce of feeling left for other's opinions.

This was precisely why I found myself heading for the banquet hall in which Gemma was having her show. I walked there with Derek Westwood and I did not mind at all that it was broad daylight and people were staring or that I was in the company of Westwood.

"You two were missed at Christmas," Westwood was telling me, "What on earth possessed you to leave London?"

"My aunt," Explaining the real relationship between Marie and I was too complicated, "She died on Christmas Eve."

"Oh! Oh my," Westwood's expression immediately turned somber and understanding, "Of course; you had to go then. The party was not that important anyway."

"Well it was not for me," I said, "But Gemma was scolded for missing it."

"Oh that is nothing," Westwood shook his head dismissively, "The man who made her dress, the host of the party; they just want her to come so they can get more business of course. I am sure they would have paid Gemma considerably for her troubles but she does not need the money. These people need her; they will not stay angry at her for long."

"That is exactly what she said," I told him, "Tell me, what are these shows like? Have you been to one before?"

Westwood nodded, "They are completely ridiculous. The girls are all made up in the latest makeup and hair and dresses. They walk around and other women stare at them, deciding what they want to buy. I will not lie to you Erik, they can be quite boring. However, I did meet Lily for the first time when my mother begged my to accompany her to a show so I suppose they do have their uses."

I looked over at Westwood and saw that a wide grin had spread over his face while he was speaking of meeting Lily. I gathered from the way the Mr. and Mrs. Westwood acted, they had married for love, not money or social status.

We arrived in the hall before the show actually started. I was amazed at how many women had packed themselves into the banquet hall for the sake of fashion. There was hardly an inch left to move. With difficulty Westwood and I made it to the bar set up in the corner where a man served us complementary champagne.

At the far end of the room curtains and a small stage had been erected, presumably for the girls little fashion parade.

The show began shortly thereafter. A small assemblage of musicians began a lively tune and a woman that I did not recognize walked out onto the stage. She was dressed impeccably and very tall and beautiful. She walked gracefully across the stage, letting all the women see she dress, stopping at one end and turning just so as to let everyone see better. Then she disappeared behind the curtain.

More women followed her, all of whom I did not know. Then, the music began to pick up tempo and out walked Katharine Rocha. She moved agilely across the stage, appearing very confident. It was strange how even though I had seen her before she looked so different now, all made up in exaggerated make up and an exquisite gown. Daria Werbowy followed her and then came Lily Westwood. I heard Derek's breath catch in his throat at the sight of his wife.

"I never get used to how beautiful she is," I heard him mutter.

"Where is—"

"Just wait; here she comes," He knew I was asking about Gemma.

The last woman in the show, Gemma walked out onto the stage. I knew my heart stopped beating for one moment. I spent weeks in Gemma's company and I knew she was a gorgeous woman but like Westwood, I was not used to seeing her like this.

She was attired in an intricately crafted, form fitting gown made of golden and black fabric. Her hair was pulled out of her face and piled in flowing blond curls which started on top of her head and then cascaded down her back. Her green eye and blue eye were lined with black and narrowed at the corners. Between this and the way she walked, Gemma looked like a jungle cat; beautiful and powerful at the same time. I saw why she was so loved by this world; she was nothing short of captivating.

After Gemma left the stage all the women walked out in line again. This time they left the stage and walked out among the guests, allowing them a closer look at the dresses.

"Alright, that is our cue," Westwood said to me and we moved off, each of us heading toward the woman we loved.

I found Gemma in a crowd of people. I heard a man next to her offer her his villa in Tuscany.

"That is very kind but I have a—Erik!" She spotted me and broke away from the people surrounding her. "You came!"

"Yes," I said in a business like voice, "I am looking for a dress for my lover, I think she would look stunning in the one you are wearing but I would like to inspect it before I buy it."

"Of course," Gemma played along beautifully, "That is what I am here for."

I circled her, using the excuse of looking at the dress to stare at her body, taking in the curve of her waist as it turned into her hips along with the bulge of her bust.

"Very nice Mademoiselle," I reached out and put my hand on her torso, caressing her under the pretense of feeling the fabric, "Very nice indeed."

"Kiss me Erik," She whispered; we were standing close together so I was the only one who heard her.

"Not in front of your admirers my dear," I whispered back, keeping my lips inches from hers. I took her hand and kissed it instead.

Gemma shook her head and smiled, "Always a gentleman Erik," She took a glass of champagne off of a tray a waiter was passing around, "What do you think of the show darling?"

"It was not un enjoyable," I said casually, "I did think you would be wearing some sort of crown while your minions fanned you with palm leaves."

"My minions are taking their break," Gemma said, as always, never missing a beat.

"This! This is fabulous!" We were interrupted by a shrill woman's voice.

"Gemma Chevalier, I am Lady Catharine de Bourgh; this is my daughter Lydia," Lady Catharine was a tall woman with a large presence. Right away I judged her to believe that breeding and a title meant she could act as she pleased.

"I absolutely must have this," Lady Catharine continued, inspecting Gemma's dress.

"It is rather gorgeous is it not?" Gemma said, turning around so that Lady Catharine could see the back as well, "What do you think Lydia?" Gemma acted as those these people were her closest friends.

"Oh I love it," The girl blushed; she did not seem to share her mother's unabashed nature.

"Who made this dress?" Lady Catharine demanded, stepping closer to Gemma and feeling the fabric of the skirt between her thumb and forefinger.

"Mousier Jacques Doucet; he is right over there," Gemma pointed.

"Thank you Miss Chevalier; it was a pleasure meeting you. You are as beautiful as everyone says you are," Lady Catharine said bluntly, shaking Gemma's hand before heading off to find Mousier Doucet.

"Lovely woman," I said as she disappeared into the crowd, "Why ever didn't you introduce me?"

Gemma laughed, "These shows thrive on the Lady Catharine de Bourgh's of the world. I meet about ten women exactly like her at every one of these."

"That is truly depressing," I said, making Gemma laugh, "So you do not mind being on constant display for all of these people?" I noticed that as they passed by, most people looked at Gemma as though she were a mannequin in a shop window.

She shook her head, "Not at all; it's the business! The way I see it, all of the women in here want to be me…and all of the men wish they were _you_, and that is a motivating feeling."

"Men wish they were me?" I asked half teasing half skeptic.

"Of course they do; one because you are with me, and two because you are so handsome and enigmatic."

I laughed, "You always know how to flatter me don't you Gemma Chevalier?"

"I try," She came closer to me and I put my arm around her. "Erik," Her voice was suddenly more serious and a bit lower, "thank you for coming; I really wanted you here but to be honest I did not think you would come."

I leaned over and lightly kissed the top of her head, not caring that our affection was on display, "This is not my usual idea of a pleasant afternoon but for you Gemma…I think it is time for a change anyway."

A few moments later Gemma was called away to the stage again; she and her fellow models were to have their pictures taken. I had finished my glass of champagne while talking to Gemma and I headed back to the bar for another.

"She looks so much better now than she did in New York," Among the bits of conversation I caught on my way to the bar this sentence captured my attention. Two women roughly my age were speaking to each other. I was behind them; they did not know I was listening.

"I do not believe I saw her smile once during the tour of the city. Now it seems as though she cannot stop!"

"Yes I know; Madam D'Aubigne told me that she heard Gemma is seeing the man she courted this summer again and _that_ is the reason behind her transformation."

"Oh! The man I saw her standing with earlier? Was that him?"

"I believe so; a Mousier _Bonheur_ if my source is correct."

"Bonheur you say? Not a name I am familiar with…a rather odd looking fellow though don't you agree?"

"Most ardently," I saw one of the women nod, "But I always believed she would fall for a man of…_unexpected_ character; a woman like her would never settle for someone _normal_."

I laughed as I walked away from the two women. For once I realized just how arbitrary gossip was.

"There you are!" Derek Westwood was standing by the bar, "I wondered where you had gotten to; get yourself a drink my friend, there are some people I want you to meet."

Derek pulled me over to a group of men that stood out like a sore thumb amid all of the eager women and board looking husbands and sons. These were the men of the models; the husbands and finances and lovers of the beautiful creatures everyone else had flocked there to see.

Among them I recognized Phillip Ferretti who greeted me kindly, stating his pleasure to see Gemma and I together again. Though I knew nothing of the rest of the men save for their names, it seemed that there was a common agreement between all of them. Each one was good enough for the most beautiful and prominent women out in society therefore they were all equal. It did not matter who had the most money or the most affluent family. The only factor in consideration was female counterparts. With Gemma Chevalier as my lover, I was more than accepted into this group of men.

Within moments Ferretti was proposing a business idea to me. With my skills as an architect and his money for backing he believed we could start a very successful firm. Though it was a vague plan and quite unexpected I considered it seriously. Years ago I had began a similar business and done quite well for myself. With Ferretti's money I knew I could do even better. I was not strapped financially but a large part of my fortune was gone; used up when I had partially financed the construction of the Paris Opera.

I felt someone tap my shoulder and turned.

"Gemma! You are done already?" I was very pleased to see her but at the same time I was pleased with myself. In her absence I had not slunk off to a corner and waited. That was what I considered growth.

She nodded, "Finished; we can leave now if you would like."

"Not at all," I shook my head, "I am enjoying myself. I would like to stay."

The shock on her face was visible from across the room.

"Really?" She asked skeptically.

I put my arm around her, lightly kissing the top of her head, "Of course. Come now; I was discussing some business with Monsieur Ferretti; I'd love to hear what you think of his idea." We turned back into the circle we had been congregated in before. Now there were even more people as the ladies had joined us. The lovely Daria Werbowy had appeared at Ferretti's elbow.

"Business?" Gemma asked.

"Erik and I may start a firm; I've already heard people clamoring to get the same architect that designed the _Chevalier_ _mansion_," Ferretti gave Gemma an exaggerated bow and she pretended to be supremely flattered, "He is in demand right now; I could manage the business end and he can be the creative genius."

"Would you actually _build_ things or just provide the design?" Gemma asked, and I could see the business wheels turning in her head. Truly I would value her opinion; you do not become one of the most powerful people in Paris by accident.

"Build them to I suppose," Farretti shrugged.

"No," I shook my head, "Once you get into financing projects like that you start to lose money. It would be better if we just supplied people with designs."

Farretti laughed, "I think this is going to be the beginning of a beautiful business partnership."

"Indeed," I said, raising my glass to him. I was seriously considering his offer, but I would ask Gemma's opinion of Farretti before I agreed to anything.

The show turned into a dinner in London which turned into a dance hall which led to our returning to the hotel at a very indecent hour. The moment we got away from the fast pace and free drinks that had fueled our night I realized had once again expended all the energy I had in reserve. It was with heavy feet indeed that I walked back to our room.

Gemma was less exhausted than I but tired none the less. She had not changed out of the dress she had worn at the show, I learned that the girls received the dresses for free as gifts. Earlier in the night I had gotten the impression that the tight frock was starting to hurt.

"Erik, help," Gemma turned to me balefully the moment we stepped inside. I laughed softly as I aided her in removing her dress.

"I knew you had designs to turn me into a ladies aid," I teased her as I helped her off with her dress. It was odd how it was done more in the sense of a favor than seduction. I did not need to seduce her; she was mine already.

"I swear they make these things to keep women from breathing," Gemma inhaled deeply once her body was free and I could see her lithe muscles relax. That night more than ever I had noticed her graceful manner; she truly had an allure.

"But you _looked_ beautiful; that is the whole point is it not?" I smiled, leaning in and kissing her fully on her rosy lips. I had refrained from doing so all night; a difficult task but we both believed it was in bad taste to show too much affection in public. In any case, waiting until we were alone made the feel of her scantily clad body against mine all the more arousing.

"You were so perfect tonight Erik," Gemma told me blissfully as she circled her arms around my neck and I moved my lips to her hear.

"I am never perfect," I told her.

She laughed, "You were! Everyone thought so."

"How do you know?"

"I could tell! You were ever so _nonchalant _about everything; so _charming_! You seemed so much more mature than the younger man."

"Are you trying to tell me that I am old Gemma darling?" I laughed as I moved on to her neck.

"No! oh!" Gemma gasped a little as my lips grazed the most sensitive part of her neck. "I mean that you were a man among boys tonight."

"Thank you darling," I said, with my mind little on the events of the night or on what Gemma was saying, "Now, let me show you how I can be a man with a woman tonight."

Gemma laughed giddily as I scooped her up and carried her off to the bedroom.

It was amazing really the changes that had taken place in the bedroom since Gemma and I had first become intimate. The nerves, the inexperienced fumbling, the uncertainty; they had all gone. I knew what she wanted and she knew what I wanted. On the other hand, the kind of passionate need we had felt at the beginning of our relationship remained. This combine made our sex life the sort of thing I had always longed for.

This all occurred to me after the fact; the only thing that occurred to be during love making was the way Gemma's body moved so well with mine.

We lay there catching our breath, our bodies still glowing with a thin covering of sweat. That was when the change in our sex life occurred to me.

Gemma pressed her body flush with mine. Feeling her next to me like that, her naked body against mine, was almost as gratifying as sex itself. It certainly was not an inefficient way to arouse my desire a second time.

"I love you Erik," Gemma smiled up at me, running her hand up my back and over my side.

I laughed sharply as her hand grazed a particularly sensitive spot on my side, "I love you to darling."

She grinned wider and her hand brushed my side again, causing another involuntary spasm of laughter.

"Be nice," I warned her, trying to resist the urge to laugh.

The wicked woman did not stop her torture. I grabbed her wrist playfully and pinned it behind her head. After a brief struggle I managed to subdue the little tease.

"Erik! Let me go!" She laughed as she writhed and twisted to get away in the most intoxicating manner.

"Are you going to behave?" I asked her.

"No," She smiled devilishly at me.

"Then I am afraid I cannot let you go," I leaned over, kissing her lips. At first we were both laughed still but as our kiss continued we lost the urge. I moved over, trapping her body under mine and Gemma stopped struggling to escape my grasp. I felt her legs part beneath me and I let go of her wrists so I could caress the rest of her body. An encore performance was at hand.

An hour later, so completely spent we could hardly move another inch, we fell asleep next to each other. I kissed her forehead just before I closed my eyes and I felt Gemma nestle closer to me. Usually in this big bed we slept on our own sides but on this particularly cold night there would be none of that. It hardly mattered to me that my arm under her head was numb.

In the world of Gemma Chevalier and her friends, three in the morning was the equivalent to ten at night and noon was the equivalent of ten in the morning. That was why it was most usual to wake late in the afternoon and begin our day then.

However, this was not the schedule Nadir and Victoria were on. That afternoon I found a note slipped under my door telling me that Nadir and his new bride had finally left for their honeymoon. It occurred to me that Nadir had told me that they would be leaving the other day before I had left for the show. I had been preoccupied however and not paid much attention to him.

It was no matter; Nadir did not need me to mind him he had his wife.

"Nadir and Victoria have left," I told Gemma as she came out into the sitting room, tying her robe at the waste.

She came up behind me and kissed my temple, "I do like them Erik; they seem very sweet. Are you going to miss them terribly?"

"No," I said truthfully, "They need to start their lives together and I have you to occupy my time."

Gemma laughed, "I am quite time consuming. I suppose last night was the latest you have been awake in years."

"On the contrary; when I lived in the opera I would stay up all night," It was strange that now I could be completely open with her; no topic was off limits. I could tell her whatever I wished without fear.

"How long did you live in the opera Erik?" Gemma asked me, ringing in a breakfast request to the front desk.

I considered, "Years…at least ten." Looking back now I realized a strange dichotomy. It had been but a year ago that I had lived under the opera house, enveloped in a dark world of twisted dreams and disillusions, allowing anger and madness to rule me until my soul was as decayed as the old wood supporting my under ground home. However, though only a year had passed, I felt like I had become a very different person and could not imagine retreating back to the solitude of my old ways.

Gemma looked as horrified at the prospect of living under the opera house as I was.

"So you…you lived _under_ the Paris Opera? How did you do it? Did you actually have a _house_ down there?"

"Well," There was no harm in telling her, I mused as I sat down with a steaming cup of coffee in the sitting room, "I helped build the Paris Opera to begin with. During construction, after I was evicted from yet another mediocre apartment, I thought it would be best if I just took up residence under the opera itself. It was secluded so I would not have to come in contact with people, and I loved the opera; it was like a child to me and I did not want to part with it. I built a house in one of the cellars before the construction was finished and I lived in it up until last year."

Gemma joined me on the sofa, listening intently to my story.

"So you just lived alone down there?" She looked sadly at me.

"Nadir visited me from time to time…and in the end…in the end there was Christine…" I looked up at Gemma when I mentioned Christine's name; she eyes flashed.

"I met her once; she was ugly and boring," Gemma seemed unable to control herself. "I do not know what you ever saw in her."

"I know," I put my arm around her and she moved closer, resting her head on my shoulder. The truth was that of course Christine was not ugly or even boring, but I was not about to tell that to Gemma. I may not have had a lot of experience with women but I did know better than that.

Our breakfast cart was delivered and we sat down to eat.

"What shall we do today?" Gemma asked me.

"Whatever suits you."

"Well, I have another show tomorrow and then…there is a show I wanted you to see; an opera here in London. Will you go with me?"

"Of course," I was actually excited at the prospect of going to see an opera, "I would love to; but what shall we do today then?"

"I have an idea."

Gemma's idea turned out to be rather pleasant. After layering on our winter attire, we left the hotel for the snow covered streets of London. Arm and arm, we leisurely made our way to a small park. For a few minutes, as we walked down the small path, we left the many buildings of the city behind and we were surrounded by a forest of white. Every tree bough was decorated with a sparkling covering of snow. It was quieter in there as well and as we walked it began to snow again.

We stopped and Gemma put her arms around me, moving in front of me. We stood there in a tight embrace, enjoying the peaceful moment in the serine, almost enchanted scene. I looked down at Gemma. Snowflakes were catching in her long eyelashes.

"I am so happy you are here Erik," Gemma smiled up at me, "I would be miserable without you."

Gemma had an even larger show the next night that involved even more adoring onlookers and to my delight, even more liquor. It was much easier for me to handle the crowds of people and the forced conversation when my spirits were lifted by wine and champagne.

As previously discussed, after the show Gemma and I headed off to the London Opera. We were not alone; Lily and Derek Westwood had tickets as well and Katharine Rocha, Daria Werbowy, and their respective admirers decided to tag along. It was quite a merry bunch; after being around complementary drinks for hours, not to mention with no food in sight, it would have been difficult _not_ to be merry.

Never in my life had I visited the opera in London and I was quite excited. I suppose that no matter what I did with myself or how much I changed, I would always love the opera. I realized more and more that there were two levels to evolution; you change what you love and also the way you do what you love. I did not care for darkness, loneliness; most importantly my feeling for Christine had died long ago. I would not stop loving the opera though; now I simply went in a different fashion; no more sneaking around and hiding in the rafters.

Gemma and I, along with the rest of our companions, strutted in through the front door. For one instant, the photographers capturing our arrival and the swirling thickets of people moving about us reminded me of the disaster with Bella. As soon as this image had formed however it dissolved. I trusted Gemma completely and I knew that with her there nothing would go awry. Nothing seemed ever to run astray in Gemma's world. She had that kind of power, or maybe she had that kind of luck. In any case, I knew that this evening would be enjoyable.

Gemma had a private box reserved for our use. Our view of the stage could not have been better. It was a most strange, but most pleasant feeling to sit in an opera house surrounded by friendly faces. Gemma put her hand over mine in a most casual way, her thumb moving in gentle little circles over my hand. I did not even think she noticed what she was doing but it meant the world to me.

The curtain parted and the first note of the opera rose up from the orchestra pit. A shiver of excitement ran up and down my spine. It was one thing to play a piano and listen to Gemma sing, it was another to hear a full orchestra and listen to the many voices of the chorus. This was a pleasure I had not indulged in for some time.

Gemma leaned over and whispered in my ear, "Is this alright Erik? I did not know about these seats…I thought you might prefer something less conspicuous…and this opera; I wasn't sure it was good—"

I stopped her by turning my head, catching her lips lightly with mine, "Everything is perfect Gemma." She smiled the most pleased grin and leaned back in her chair, keeping her hand over mine.

At intermission Gemma turned to me, "I need to go to the powder room; excuse me darling,"

I nodded, "Of course," And with that she scampered off, motioning for her friends to follow. I stared at her as she went; she seemed nervous or giddy or something. Why on earth going to a bathroom would evoke those kind of feelings was beyond me.

"Erik," Phillip Ferretti leaned forward to speak to me, "Have you given any more thought to my proposal?"

"I have," And I could not believe I was saying this, "I'd like to do it; I think it would prove quite profitable."

Ferretti nodded, "Excellent; because I have already lined up our first client, he is here tonight we can meet him after the show. He's interested in hotels…you can build a hotel can't you?" The idea that a project would be outside of my capacity as an architect seemed not to have occurred to Ferretti, which was fine with me; I rather felt that there was nothing I could not do.

Just then the lights flickered and I heard a few notes come out of the orchestra. An awfully short intermission I thought as I wondered if Gemma would make it back in time. However a moment later I realized Gemma would not be coming back…she was on stage!

I do not know why, but when I saw her walk out there my heart fell into my stomach and my jaw fell onto the ground. What was she up to?

She had gotten the attention of the crowd immediately and now the audience was silent, waiting for her to speak.

"Good evening," Gemma was practically yelling so that her voice would carry throughout the house, "Tonight it is my pleasure to treat you all to a special performance," I have to admit that as much as I trusted Gemma I was nervous as she spoke these words; what did she mean by special? What performance? I had been set up for the fall before…and this was usually how it started.

"Tonight I am going to sing a piece for you…written and composed by Erik Bonheur," I nearly fell out of my seat as she announced this. What piece had I composed and how had she gotten hold of it? Gemma looked right up at me from the stage, "Merry Christmas darling,"

The moment the music started I knew what it was; a song I had written specifically for Gemma during the summer. It was meant to complement the range and tone of her voice…it also reminded me of the strong, almost mad feelings of desire and love I had been feeling for her at the time. I still loved her quite fiercely, but that initial intensity had begun to calm down; staying in love like that would drive anyone mad! It is impossible.

Listening to her voice however, singing my words, brought all those feeling back into my mind and heart.

Gemma had a very good voice; perhaps not as perfect as Christine's had been but then Gemma possessed a different power. She was entrancing; her voice, her presence on the stage; it cast a spell and I did not mind for one moment being so drawn in.

The song was accompanied by the full orchestra. Though at home I had only a piano, I often wrote parts for other instruments, purely for my amusement and enjoyment. I never imagined that one day I would actually be hearing the notes I had written played in a grand opera house in front of countless people. The sense of pride and pleasure that came from hearing that song, from hearing Gemma sing it, was overwhelming.

The composition came to an end and was met with thunderous applause. Gemma, rather humbly, took a bow, blew a kiss off into the crowd, and then waltzed gracefully off the stage.

In a few minutes I heard rushing footsteps and the women burst into the box. Gemma looked breathless, her eyes immediately darting to meet mine.

"Well?" She stepped toward me, I had stood when I saw she arrive, "Was it alright? Did you like it?" I had never seen her more desperate to please, and I found this endlessly endearing.

I took her hands and kissed her cheek, "That was beautiful my love," I had not realized until I spoke but my throat was rather tight.

She smiled at me, "I hoped you would like it! I was worried I did not have enough time to practice; I think I sounded a little flat." Despite her worried her eyes looked round and bright with delight.

I shook my head, "No darling; you were perfect. How did you get that composition?"

Gemma looked rather pleased with herself, "I took it," Her face fell, "Well…I mean, I _browed_ it, just so I could practice it more. I did not realized I had taken the full orchestra version. I did not think you would mind…I took it with me to New York…I sang it all the time…I did not think you would mind that I had it."

"Of course not," I said quickly, "I did not even miss it; this was very clever of you, to plan all of this. Thank you Gemma," I clasped her hands a little tighter and pulled her closer to me, "It meant the world to me to hear you perform that song."

She just smiled. I kissed her then.

"Aw!" we heard the voice of Daria Werbowy and we broke apart, still smiling wildly at each other, "How sweet!" She crooned, "Now sit; I can not see with you two in the way."

Gemma and I laughed. As we took our seats again I noticed that other people had been staring at us. I did not have a problem with that in the slightest. Let them stare; for once they had something favorable to look upon.

The rest of the opera was enjoyable, but it passed nearly unnoticed to me. I kept reliving Gemma's performance…her gift to me. Nothing could have been more perfect; there was nothing I wanted more. She had given me the thrill of hearing one of my own original pieces played. What was more, I was allowed to bask in the light of the success of my work…the success of Gemma's voice. I did not have to hide in shadow, listening to the labor of my love from afar. Gemma was right beside me, her hand over my knee, acknowledging me as the love in her life.

After the opera there was a rather grand party where the socialites mingled with the actors and singers and dancers. I realized that this was a world I had looked in on countless times but never been granted access to…until now.

People still wearing their costumes mixed in with the upper crust like Gemma and her friends; it was all a very loud, bright, inebriated atmosphere in which it was easy to feel slightly disoriented in a fantastically care free sort of way.

Ferretti introduced me to our first client as a business team. His name was Jon Rothschild; a name I immediately recognized as one of the most powerful and rich fixtures in England. These were the sort of people Gemma and her circle cavorted with; the very best of society. At the same time, lowly ballerinas stalked about, hunting for patrons.

Gemma stayed attached to my elbow the entire evening. She listened attentively during my conversation with Rothschild, offering charming and clever comments whenever she saw fit. By the end of our meeting, Gemma had him so wrapped around her little finger that he would have commissioned me to build an outhouse and given me a budget to match that of a small country.

The entire affair was rather, dare I say, fun. With Gemma at my side no one dared to give me a strange look because of my mask. What was more, I never lacked someone to talk to. Never once did I feel awkward or out of place.

After three hours however we were all exhausted. We had been on the go since the early afternoon and Gemma's show. As we made our way out to the streets, Gemma was blinking rapidly; hardly able to stay awake.

As we left I found myself having to bid _adieu_ to quite a few people. Somehow, even people I had never met before knew me and wanted to wish me good night. It was in this way that I saw them.

I almost missed them actually. I had looked in that direction because another anonymous well wisher had spoken up. As my eyes looked over the crowd…there they were. Not just Raoul, but Christine as well.

For a moment my heart stopped, merely out of shock. Three pairs of eyes locked; no one knowing exactly how to react. I kept walking and they made no move to stop me; which was no surprise. It was an odd moment; they saw me, they knew I was there and who I was there with, and I knew they were there together. Yet that was all; our worlds were in different spheres, not to collide.

After that brief moment of shock, I settled back down into contented fatigue. When we reached the hotel we poured ourselves into bed. Gemma nestled close to me due to the frigid temperature of the night.

"I love you," She murmured.

"I love you to,"

With her two shows finished Gemma and the rest of her circle, which I was now a part of, would be heading for Paris. To arrive in time for New Years celebrations we would have to leave speedily. I was able to pack within moments but Gemma and her exorbitant wardrobe was taking longer. Maids from the hotel were helping, actually they were doing the packing themselves, while Gemma and I enjoyed one last cup of tea before we left.

A knock came at the door.

"That must be Daria; I told her to tell me when she was leaving," Gemma said, "Come in!"

It was not Daria. A concierge from the front desk stepped inside, "Someone here to see you Miss," The man stepped aside to reveal Raoul de Chagny standing behind him.

My heart started beating a bit faster as I wondered what on earth the boy was doing here. I looked at Gemma; her face showed no reaction.

"Of course," Gemma said calmly, "Ladies; would you excuse us?" She called to the maids packing her things and they quickly filed out of the room, "You may go as well." Gemma spoke to the concierge and he gave a short bow before he left and shut the door.

Now the three of us stood in a triangle. Raoul looked steadily but nervously back and Gemma and I.

"What is it that you want Raoul?" Gemma spoke first, her voice cold, "We do not have much time before we must leave so speak quickly."

The boy shot her something of a glare, "I debated coming here for weeks; I was not sure I should even bother. Then I decided that even a wicked girl like you should be warned against the kind of man she thinks she is in love with."

"Go to hell," I spat at him. I did not have to stand here and let the little fop insult me in front of Gemma. I took a few steps toward him, fully planning on ringing his neck. I was not a bad man; I had made some mistakes but that was in the past! I had done a lot to distance myself from the darkness in my soul and I would have appreciated some respect for that; the least the stupid boy could do was leave me alone.

Gemma, put her hand on my chest and shook her head, "Oh? And what do you know of my Erik?" She asked him.

Raoul looked over at me with contempt in his eyes, "I know he is mad; I know he is manipulating; I know he has the power to control you and make you do…whatever he wants. I know he was the man once known as the Phantom of the Opera; he used blackmail, violence, and anything else in his power to control his little world. I know he mistakes obsession for love but has no heart…no soul. I know that everything he touches is ruined; I know he turns all in his path to ashes."

Raoul talked faster and louder as his list of grievances against me went on.

"You idiot boy!" I bellowed at him, "How dare you come in here and denounce me! You do not know a thing about me!"

"I know you are a violent swilnderlar! You are probably after her money! Being a ghost not paying as well as it used to?" He shot back at me.

Gemma cocked her head to one side and stepped closer to Raoul. Her voice was low but full of venom. "Blackmail and violence you say? That sounds a lot like Parisian society," Raoul looked taken aback by this statement, "Raoul you have come to me uninvited and unwanted, insulted my intelligence along with the character of the man I love. That means that you have exactly _five_ _seconds_ to get out of here before I rip out your tongue; is that clear?"

"But—he!" Raoul sputtered and pointed at me.

"Bit your tongue boy," I snapped at him, "You are a spoiled, meddling creature, but I don't care anymore. I want nothing to do with you or your wife. You have no idea who I am or what I am capable of." That was not really true; he knew the wickedness I could concoct, but as for any sort of good I could do, he had no idea.

"I know exactly what you are capable of!"

"Raoul you will leave now," Gemma practically hissed, "And I swear to God if I catch wind of any of this information being spread around, and I will know if it is, I will find you in whatever country cottage you and that dancer have take up in and wipe you off the face of this earth; do you understand?"

Raoul shook his head, "I knew I should have known better than to think a devil like you would have the sense to listen."

I stepped toward him so that I was glaring down his nose; I was a good deal taller than him.

"Get out you meddling ass, before I wring your neck for talked to Gemma that way."

Frightened that I was perfectly serious, Raoul shot us both one final glare before he left.

Gemma turned to me immediately, "Erik, does he have any real proof that you were the opera ghost?"

Her question startled me for a moment. Gemma looked very serious and I realized that if Raoul exposed me, life would get ugly, even with Gemma at my side. I thought back to the opera.

"No," I said firmly, "It would be his word against mine."

Gemma let out a huge sigh of relief and came to me, putting her arms around me, "Thank God; he would not dare to report you to anyone unless he had irrefutable proof."

I snorted and shook my head. That damn boy; I was staying out of his life, why on earth could he not grant me the same courtesy? The nerve! To come into my hotel room and stir up my past for Gemma. I hated him for reminding her of what I once was.

"Gemma…it really does not bother you that I was…a ghost?"

She laughed, "Erik you were never a ghost; that would be impossible, even for you. Besides, everyone has something dark in their past…something they would rather keep…locked away."

I stared at her, "Gemma, you know all of my secrets…I know none of yours."

She looked away from me for a moment, staring at the doorway. The maids had appeared again and were bobbing nervously in the doorframe, waiting to see if Gemma was ready for them again.

"Yes, come in," Gemma motioned to them. Her eyes flicked back to me, "Now is not the time darling."

I did not argue with her. I knew Gemma would not have discussed private matters of mine in front of outsiders and I wanted to give her that same respect. However that did not stop me from wondering what exactly Gemma was hiding.

"Erik?" She spoke to me softly.

"Yes?"

"It was good to hear you defend yourself that way." I stared blankly at her and she continued, "I think for a time you did not like yourself very much; I was proud of you when you told that boy he had no idea who you were." She kissed my cheek, "You are worth a lot darling, and I'm happy you know that."

An hour later we left the hotel for good. I felt strange as I walked out of that opulent, mirrored lobby arm in arm with Gemma. I was almost sad to be going. I had come to think of the hotel as a home; a place I thought of very fondly because it was where my relationship with Gemma had been resurrected. Never before had I had such genuinely happy memories to associate with a place. Perhaps we would return the next season.


	38. A New Year

Our departure from the hotel was captured for the city of London to see by the usual gaggle of photographers. For me though they had begun to fade into the background. At the moment I was more curious about whatever Gemma had to tell me than a few photographs. I had been in the papers, portrayed as a monster and as a lover. Let them do as they please; with Gemma by my side no one would dare to be insulting.

The ride to Dover was long and very cold. We traveled by train; by we I mean to indicate Gemma and myself, the rest of the modeling hierarchy Daria, Katharine, and Lily with their respective lovers and husband in tow as well. I did think it annoying that everywhere we went we were invariably followed by these people, but I supposed it was better than always having to meet and closely associate with new members of society.

Gemma and I did have a private compartment on the train however. Despite this she offered me no information during the trip to the coast. She pulled a blanket over herself and nestled up against me for warmth and closed her eyes. Before long I felt the draw of sleep come over me as well.

Sunset had long passed by the time we reached our destination. The rest of the night was passed in a small, unassuming hotel. Our group shared a few glasses of wine before retreating to the bedrooms. I noticed that of the unmarried women, Gemma was the only one who openly shared a room with her lover, not that I was complaining.

When we were alone in the room Gemma sat nervously on the bed, wringing her hands.

"Are you sure you want to hear this?" Gemma asked me, and I was surprised that she was approaching the subject. I had believed she would need to be needled a bit more before she opened up.

I nodded.

"Are you really very sure?" She asked again.

"Gemma tell me; you know my past for Christ's sake, it cannot be worse than that."

She shot me a dark look, "Erik you have to promise that whatever I tell you will not change the way you feel about me…the way you," She looked down into her lap, "The way you _look_ at me."

I shook my head. I knew Gemma had a flare for the dramatic but I had no idea why she was putting me through this little performance.

"Gemma of course it will not change the way I feel about you; you know I never thought of you as innocent. I've actually always been rather afraid of you."

She laughed, which was my intent.

"Erik you have to swear never to tell a soul because if you do…" She stood, pointing a threatening finger at me.

I put up my hands, palms outward, "Gemma you need not worry about these things! I would never dream of telling anyone…just as you will keep my past a secret correct?"

Gemma nodded, sitting back down and folding her hands in her lap. I sat beside her, waiting for her to speak.

"Erik I have never ever told anyone this…only three other people know, and I have not talked about it in some time."

"Gemma to be perfectly honest with you it was a relief to me that you knew my secrets. You will feel better after you tell me." I had made my voice as soft as possible and wrapped my arm around her, trying to coax whatever it was out of her. Gemma was an interesting woman to be sure and I wanted to know everything about her.

"Alright; but if this changes the way you feel about me—"

"It won't Gemma; I promise."

"It happened when I was young; I had just started to become known as a model. Now, I'm not sure you know this but I grew up with the girls, with Lily and Daria and Katharine. They spent their summers in Deauville and we became fast friends."

She paused, "Go on Gemma," I prompted her gently.

"Well things were…different for us then, we did not have any real power over our lives. I mean, I suppose I did, but the rest of the girls; they still had to do whatever their parents wished for them. In Lily's case, that meant getting married."

"But…Lily just got married," I said confused.

"Erik do you want to hear this or not?"

"Sorry."

"Right; well you see times have changed for women; usually you do not see girls being forced into wedlock at outrageously young ages to men they do not know. Lily's family is different though; old money and a relentless devotion to tradition. This man they wanted her to marry; we did not know much about him at first, save that he was rich and much older of course."

It was true that I had not been certain what Gemma would tell me but I had suspected it might begin this way.

"Lily was a wreck; she did not want to marry, especially not him. She expressed her displeasure to her betrothed and to her father. I am not sure what happened, but the next time I saw her she was…she had been hurt, physically I mean. We were all terrified; Lily most of all of course. If she married this man it would be the end of her life really. She would not be allowed to be a model with the rest of us; she could not make any decisions about what would happen to her. Lily was hardly fifteen and her life was already over." Gemma paused.

"I understand," I patted her back, "You were concerned for you friend, you had to do something."

Gemma nodded, "He was a rotten man; we all met him once Lily's father had set the wedding plans in motion. He hated Deauville; he hated the water…he never learned to swim." At this a wicked and mirthless smile came over Gemma's lips.

"We knew that; that he could not swim. We all planned it, Lily, Daria, Katharine, and myself. Lily was to pretend she had 'seen the light,' that she was excited for her impending nuptials. Her father threw them an engagement party one night in Deauville. During the party I…I approached Lily's fiancé, doing my best to act flirtatious." Gemma batted her eyelashes for punctuation.

"I suppose you were irresistible?" I asked.

"As always," Gemma offered another joyless smile, "I let him know that if he would meet me later, out on the pear, he would not be disappointed." Gemma shook her head, "I thought I would be more nervous but I was not; I knew I what I was going to do. I was waiting for him. It was lucky; it was very windy that night and the waves were high. Daira and Katharine were watching from a way off just in case. He showed up on time. We had all made certain that he had his fill to drink that night; he was already stumbling when he walked up to me."

Gemma took my hand and squeezed it, "It was almost too easy; almost. He came at me, this drunken, excited look on his face. He reached for me, and I just grabbed his hand. He was already off balance."

She shook her head, gripping my hand even tighter, "I pulled, I spun. It was strange really; it was exactly how I had pictured it happening when we had been planning. He was so surprised; I will never forget that shocked look on his face when I pushed him to the edge."

Gemma stopped and looked at me, "Erik do you hate me? Can you still love me after hearing what I have done?" A silent tear was running down her cheek.

I kissed her forehead, "Gemma nothing you tell me will make me love you less. What happened next?"

She nodded, "Well, this is where the plan started to go awry; you see, he caught himself. He did not fall right away. I could not see anything else to do; if he made it off the pear he would tell everyone what we had planned. That could not happen. I ran at him; that made him go over but then of course so did I. Daria and Katharine saw and they came running down the dock."

I saw a shiver run up and down Gemma's spine, "Even though it was summer the water was cold. For a moment I thought I would drown. He was pulling at me, trying to hang on to me. It is a damn good thing I have been swimming since I was about four; and that I was not drunk as he was. I held on to the…the pole, under the pear, you know? It was slippery and I almost could not do it. My dress was so heavy I was sure it would drag me down. He was clawing at me and I grabbed his hair…I…pushed him under. He got out from under my hand but a wave took him away from me. I saw his head bobbing in the water…then we was gone. They…they did not find the body for another year."

I pulled Gemma closer to me, the tears were flowing now.

"Wait I want to finish!" Gemma gasped, "Because that was not the worst part; the worst was when everyone else came down the dock. I was pulled out; we told the story we had rehearsed. I admitted that I had met him there on the pear to…become romantically involved. I said we slipped, that I tried to help him but…he could not swim. Everyone believed us; of course Lily had to pretend to be angry with me for the better part of a year. But when I saw…I saw his father, I realized…we had been playing such a reckless game! I killed that man's son!"

She buried her face in my chest.

"Gemma it's alright; Lily's parents should not have put you all in such a hopeless situation. You did not see any other choice; you were too young. Besides, that man sounded wicked; I would have done the same."

"Erik I felt awful; I did not know what to do. At the same time; suddenly I had power. True, everyone believed our story but after a year passed and Lily and I became friends again some people began to wonder. I also was branded as a real temptress; that was when I started hurting men left and right. I was angry at everyone for being so absurde; for giving a murderer all this adoration and power. They were all so foolish! It was so easy to make them love me!"

She had calmed down a bit more now, "Everything in my life was a way to vent my anger, at myself, at the way everyone turned me into a larger than life persona; I am not a human woman to these people. I am the charming but devilish seductress, I am the socialite living the life they all want. They do not love me though, and I hate them. It took me a very long time to work out how I felt after that night on the pear, but I did not have time to think. I was famous, infamous, and my actions were rash to say the least. Then I met you,"

I stared at her.

"You were the first real person I had met in a long time. I realized quickly that I did not want to taint you with my world of revenge; thus never mentioning Raoul. It seemed to me that you understood that dark, angry side of human nature so well and I had never really been around someone with that kind of knowledge. There were so many things; you were so sad and I wanted to help you, you were so enigmatic and I wanted to understand. You made me so happy it scared me," She looked up at me, "I sound like a fool don't I?"

I shook my head quickly, "Of course not." I held her very close, "Gemma I have been wondering why on earth a woman like you would love a man like me and now, now that I understand you a bit more, I know how it is that you can love me."

She cocked her head in a most adorable way and sniffled, "You know why I love you?"

"Yes; because we are two murderous villains."

She hit me, "Erik!"

"No it is true; I think tomorrow we should kidnap a princess."

"Erik you are an absolute ass." She glared at me but I knew that underneath she was amused. Gemma and I shared a tendency to use humor to handle tense situations.

"I think absolute is a bit strong."

She shook her head, "You know Erik I do feel better, now that I have told you I mean. Now there is nothing dark between us."

I nodded, "Yes; we can start our lives as evil doers together with nothing hanging over our heads."

She hit me again, "Erik that is not amusing! And remember, you are to make no reference to that story. Only Lily, Daria and Katharine know."

"Do you think Lily told Derek?" I asked.

Gemma shrugged, "I have no idea; I know she loves him very much though. She might have told him."

"It is no matter; you need not fear darling, I shall keep your secret."

"And you still love me? Even though you know what I did?"

"Of course; I am only sorry that that man ever came in to your life. In your situation I would have followed the same course of action."

Gemma laughed.

"What?" I asked her.

"I have a hard time picturing you as a scared, fifteen year old girl."

That night Gemma nestled close to me, draping her arm around my chest. Usually we did not sleep like that any more. While it sounded romantic, we quickly found that someone's arm was always the worse in the morning for being slept on at a funny angle.

That particular night however neither of us seemed to care. It felt right, albeit uncomfortable, to have her that close. She had shared with me a great secret of her life, something that she could only tell someone who she absolutely trusted; who she truly loved. We were closer now; Gemma had finally given me a piece of herself that truly bound her to me.

Nothing dark lay between us now. There were no secrets left to drive a wedge between us. When Gemma and I had reunited after Nadir's wedding I had believed that I would never truly be fulfilled by her, that I would only share so much with her. Now we were in a place totally foreign to me; an honest place. Perhaps we were meant for each other. Fate certainly had a sense of humor.

Than a terrible thought crashed my peaceful musings before sleep took me. My eyes snapped open.

Gemma knew I was the Phantom, but she knew nothing of Persia. Gemma had not guessed the dark, wicked deeds which had passed in that far off country.

After hours of inner strife, ranging from locking that memory away to waking up Gemma that instant and telling her, I decided I would not tell her, not yet in any case. I could not keep her from the Phantom, but Persia was so many years ago. I wanted to keep that knowledge away from her; I never want to think of Persia again. Some parts of life you are never meant to share.

By the next evening we were back in Paris. It was amazing to think that I had left this city a broken man and was returning with an unfamiliar but blissful feeling of invincibility.

It was fortunate for me that I was feeling so very untouchable because the moment we arrived at the train station in the city there was a constant commotion around Gemma and her comrades; to my horror that included me.

Even more than men with cameras, arbitrary passersby on the street called out to the four women as we passed through the station.

"Good night; good night; we will see you tomorrow evening!" These words were repeated between all members of our party as we prepared to disperse into the night.

This was Paris; this was where these people actually lived. Everyone was going off to their own homes, or in the case of Daria and Katharine, their parent's home.

I was the only one who did not have a place to return to. For a moment that out of place feeling crept over me.

Gemma took my hand at that moment, "Are you ready to go home Erik? This is exciting! You have never seen my apartment before."

Perhaps I was getting old after all, or maybe I was just a silly fool. Of course Gemma and I would stay together.

"No I have not had the pleasure," Gemma and I headed for a carriage; two men followed carrying the rest of Gemma's wardrobe. The woman had such an extensive collection of clothing that it filled a second carriage. As it was late and we had not eaten, Gemma and I stopped on our journey to her apartment for dinner. Her clothing, and my meager suitcase, were taken on to the apartment so it would be waiting for us when we arrived.

We were seated right away at the café Gemma chose. I did notice that as we walked in everyone stopped eating and stared at us. I did not care; I was hungry and tired. All I was concerned with was the lamb that I ordered.

"I eat here quite often," Gemma told me as she sipped her wine, "It is very close to my apartment."

"You know," I spoke between bites, "I have seen your apartment before."

"Whenever did you do that?" She asked in amused shock.

"I was looking for your family's home; I needed to speak with Georgette. This was before you returned from New York. I needed a suit for Nadir's wedding."

Gemma nodded, "I see; and what did you think of the place?" She smiled.

I adopted an air of aloofness, "It was adequate looking I suppose; the typical wealthy abode."

Gemma laughed, "Oh you are so very jaded aren't you?"

"I am an elite Parisian; nothing can impress me."

"Erik promise me you will never lose your sarcasm? I swear I do not know what I would do without it." Gemma smiled at me and I recognized the look in her eyes from when ballerinas at the opera would receive gifts from their lovers; adoration. No one had ever adored me before. What did it matter that the entire restaurant was watching us eat? Gemma adored me.

"You need not worry Gemma," I said lightly, "Sarcasm has been my main form of communication since I was a child; I doubt it will leave me now."

Gemma put her hand over mine. I remembered that night in Deauville when she had taken me out into the town and had done the same thing. That had set the whole town talking about us and I very much doubted that this time things would be any different.

When we reached Gemma's apartment I knew that more than one person saw me entering with her. That would have to be scandalous; an unmarried woman staying with her lover. Still, I knew Gemma would not care and frankly, neither did I.

"Well, what do you think?" Gemma asked me rather excitedly, motioning around her apartment. Someone had been in to make ready for her arrival; a fire was going and it looked as though the layer of dust which must have gathered in Gemma's absence had been wiped clean.

Her apartment was on the third floor of the building, or rather, her apartment _was_ the third floor of the building. We entered into the living room; a large fireplace and plush furniture greeted us…not literally of course…that would have been strange.

In truth it was how I imagined Gemma's home would be; luxurious and tasteful. It looked like more than enough room for two people to live in. I spotted several doors which must have led to other rooms…perhaps one could hold a piano.

"It's lovely," I said as I looked around.

"Come; let me give you the tour," Gemma took my hand and pulled me toward the back of the living room and opened a pair of French doors into the bedroom.

"This is where we sleep…obviously," She giggled with pride and she showed me the bedroom. It was a sizable room; a large queen bed at one end, covered in what looked like crème silk and down comforters. It also contained a grand closet and a vanity table. What I liked best however was that one wall was almost entirely taken up by a window which opened onto a terrace. I walked over and looked out; it allowed for a beautiful view of the city.

"Well…do you like it?" Gemma asked me expectedly.

"Very much," I said, turning back to her, "And that closet looks as though it might be large enough to fit your clothes and mine."

"Oh Erik don't be silly!" She laughed, "I have more closets than that little one!" I stared at her and she shook her head, "Never mind; come on! There is more to see!"

She took me it to the kitchen, the guest bedroom, and the spare bedroom Gemma did not know what to do with. I immediately suggested a piano and she readily agreed.

"And so…I will be staying…with you," I said slowly, wondering if I had assumed a bit too much. Just how long would Gemma want me to stay with her?

"Of course," She cocked her head, "Is this place alright? Do you think we need a bigger one?"

"Oh no! No this is fine," I said quickly, "I just wondered…You do want me to stay with you? I am not going to…bother you, by living with you, am I?"

Gemma looked at me, giving me a sad smiled. She put her arms around me, embracing me tightly.

"Oh Erik…of course you are going to bother me!" She laughed, "But I do want you here; I like waking up and having you next to me. I would miss you if you were anywhere else."

Relieved, because I could continue to share her bed and because I did not have to look for an apartment, I kissed the top of Gemma's head.

"What do you say we go and test out that bed of yours?" I suggested.

Gemma's bed was as comfortable as it looked. It was large, soft, and covered in white sheets.

"Oh," I sighed as we settled in under the covers, "This feels wonderful…you know, when I was living under the opera, I used to have the best of everything; clothing, inks, papers…but I never bothered with sleeping arrangements; for Christ's sake I used to sleep in a coffin!" I winced as these words slipped out, knowing I had gone too far even for Gemma.

"Really?" She yawned, leaning over me, kissing my cheek and taking off my mask, something I habitually forgot to do, and laying it on her night stand.

"Gemma…I just told you I used to sleep in a coffin; does that not shock you?" I asked in amazement.

"Erik when it comes to the details of your past precious little shocks me. Just as long as I never come home to a queen sized coffin in place of my bed,"

I laughed, "I would not dream of it; my back has thoroughly cheered my change in sleeping arrangements...and that is not the only body part that appreciates sharing a bed with you," I added this because I was too tired to bother with any kind of propriety.

"Erik!" Gemma laughed and kicked my shins under the sheets.

"What? My neck thanks your bed as well."

"Oh Erik you are the most wicked man," She commenced in stroking my side, an area she knew to be particularly sensitive, "Neck indeed!"

"Gemma!" I pinned her arms behind her back, something made easy by her lack of resistance.

Our faces were inches apart.

"Goodnight my love," I whispered to her, kissing her gently. I knew my energy was nearly spent.

"Goodnight darling," She murmured back as I drew away from her.

Neither of us woke the next morning until noon. Traveling was very taxing and we had both been exhausted.

"Well," Gemma smiled at me when she saw I was awake, "What did you think of your first night here?"

"Good," I rolled over to face her, putting my arm around her, "Now let us make a good morning."

"God that sounded trite—" Gemma began to laugh at me but I cut her off. I pressed my lips to hers and pulled her body close to mine, pulling her nightgown up over hips. For a man of my age I was aware that I possessed an incredibly youthful desire for intercourse, but after so many years of being denied, how could I be expected to restrain myself?

Still, we could not sit in bed all day. Gemma and I were past that now; on occasion I assumed we could occupy the comfortable sheets from sunup to sun down, but we also had lives to lead. Gemma sat at her desk in the sitting room, catching up on correspondence (apparently she was woefully behind) while I set to sketching out a few ideas for Monsieur Rothschild and his hotel. I contemplated sending him an opulent outhouse design, purely for my own amusement at whatever his reply might be. I told Gemma of my plan and she gave me her complete approval.

"That would be damn amusing Erik," She shook her head, "I daresay he would go for the idea."

"Of course he would," I said, finishing the mansion outhouse and folding it so that it flew threw the air and landed on Gemma's desk. I had discovered this trick years ago and I suppose that this knowledge could have been put to better use but as yet I lacked that desire.

"Gemma darling after three minutes speaking with you he was ready to let me build whatever I pleased."

Gemma unfolded the paper and laughed, "That is true enough; some people are woefully simple. I do like this Erik," She pointed at the drawing, "It has a stately kind of grace…something which is hard to achieve in a waste receptacle."

I nodded, "It takes true talent to make a toilet look that good."

"Erik how did you fold this thing to make it fly?" She asked me, more interested in refolding the crease lines in the paper than the design itself.

"A true magician never reveals his secrets," I said cryptically.

She shook her head, "You are a magician?"

Her inquiry stung me a bit as it reminded me of Persia, a time in my life I was determined to keep away from her, "Yes."

"Erik the Great?" She teased me.

"You may call me that if you wish," I told her and she laughed.

"I meant to ask if that was the name you used when you did your magic."

"No," I sighed, and knowing it would put an end to the conversation, "I used to be called, "The Living Corpse,""

"Oh God," Gemma sighed, "I'm sorry Erik; forget I said anything."

I shook my head dismissively, "Not at all Gemma; you did not know. Here, let me show you how to fold it."

I showed her how to do it properly and, like to irresponsible children, we left our tasks for later and played with paper.

That evening we were to meet all of Gemma's little entourage somewhere in Pairs for dinner. Apparently these people did not go twenty four hours without seeing each other.

Upon leaving her apartment I did not feel the rush of nerves that usually accompanied outings into any city. I was confident in the fact that whatever happened, I did not need to fear hostility from anyone with Gemma beside me.

As always, the restaurant chosen by this group of wealthy socialites and entrepreneurs seemed to be the height of modishness. It was a buzz with other diners, all of whom of course paying close attention to Gemma and me.

"Well we finally saw the new house," Lily wasted no time in telling us these very important details, "It is still a mess! You would think that with what we are paying these people they could at least have it cleaned."

There were nods all across the table but I had no idea what she was talking about, "I'm sorry?" I asked. Lily looked at me, not in frustration at my lack of understanding, but rather in a kind of pleasure, that I had spoken I suppose.

"Oh! I guess Gemma did not tell you; Derek and I are moving into a new house here in Paris. It is a really beautiful place but a bit…rundown at the moment. We hired some people to fix it up but it is still a mess. What was the problem darling?"

Derek Westwood looked more interested in inspecting the menu than any sort of house inspection, "Water damage," He said absently.

"Yes! That was it…anyway it looks as though we won't be moving in until the end of the month."

"What a terrible imposition." I said and it struck me that I was being a bit biting for no reason but the rest of the table laughed.

"Yes, until then Lily and Derek will have to endure the confines of his family mansion," Daria teased.

"Wait just a minute," Lily shook her finger at her friend, "You do not know the horrors of living in the same house as his mother," She motioned at Derek.

"Are you going to let your wife talk about your mother that way?" Viktor Van Noten asked him.

Derek shook his head, still looking at his menu, "She is absolutely right; my mother is a nightmare."

"I have no idea why she does not like me," Lily sounded rather distressed over this, "I come from a well reputed family, I am a prominent member of society! I swear there is nothing worse than knowing your lover's parents do not like you."

"I would not know a thing about that," I said, surprised at my own chatty mood.

"Oh Erik it is not that my father doesn't like you," Gemma sighed, and I could tell she was searching for a way to finish the sentence.

"It is just that he would rather you married Tom Ford," Ferretti provided for her.

"Really?" I had not heard of this before. I knew that Thomas Ford was interested in Gemma, but I had no idea that he had her father's blessing as well.

Gemma shook her head dismissively, "Maybe; but my father always wants me to marry whoever seems to be the wealthiest, up incoming man in the field."

"Well soon that is going to be you Erik," Ferretti raised his glass to me, "I've been talking to a lot of people and everyone is excited about contracting you for a design. How are you coming with the Rothschild project? Do you have anything ready to show him yet?"

"I've made him one hell of a toilet,"

"What?" He looked horrified but Gemma laughed so hard she nearly had wine come out of her nose.

"No need to worry," I assured him, "I have something in mind."

"Good; he is an impatient man. Not that you need to worry about that Erik; from what I gathered he loved Gemma and was actually rather afraid of you."

I laughed, though it was not the more joyous of sounds, "He is not the first, nor the last I should imagine."

"Maybe that is why father does not like you," Gemma suggested.

"No, I rather think that has something to do with my lack of, how did you put it Lily? A respected family and status as a well reputed member of society."

I knew that this statement was opening a Pandora's Box but, perhaps it was the wine, I was feeling very relaxed.

"Where do you come from Erik?" Ferretti asked me, and in his voice I detected genuine interested and no condescension, "I have not heard anything about your family."

"They're dead; I would not imagine you would have heard about them."

This putt a damper on the dinner conversation, something I was truly amused by.

"We were not close; no need to be so somber. I left home when I was young, I've been wondering about the world ever since."

"So you are a kind of…nomad then?" Westwood asked me, finally putting down his menu and looking at me.

"I suppose; which is why I cannot understand how Monsieur Chevalier does not approve of me." I laughed.

"Where have you lived?" Daria asked me, a true note of interest in her voice.

"Italy…Russia," I wanted to stop there; I did not really want to mention Persia.

"Russia?" Katharine and Viktor chorused together, there interests raised at my mention of their home county.

"Yes, I used to perform at that festival, Yarmark they called it."

Viktor nodded, "Incredible! I always looked forward to that as a boy…the performers were fantastic. Of course, there was a very good chance of getting pick pocketed."

I laughed, this time with genuine mirth as I remember the amusement I used to take in lightening the loads of travelers by taking their money from their pockets.

"Yes that was a real danger. But it was not the only one…" I launched into a story about my experiences there.

I had collected a great deal of stories in Russia and I felt like sharing them that night. There were countless misadventures to relate; bands of thieves, potions, card games…

An hour later I realized I had been telling intricate stories about my life and had probably lost the attention of everyone. I really looked at people however and found the opposite was true. Everyone at the table was staring at me, Gemma included, with a captivated look on their face. The waiter had returned to take our order long ago and was still hovering by our table, listening to me.

More than that, I noticed people at the tables around us were turned toward me, listening as well. Some had even stood and now circled our table.

"Then?" Gemma prompted me and I realized I had stopped mid sentience.

"Oh! Yes…then I took his horse."

Gals of laughter were heard all around. I had forgotten what fun it was to entertain a group of listeners.

"I had no idea you had such an interesting life," Katharine Rocha started at me, "What else have you done?"

"That could take the whole night."

"We have time,"

I glanced over at Gemma. She was beaming at me; I knew my talkative manner was making her proud.

"I suppose; but let us order first; also these people might want to rearrange and get a better seat." My uninvited listeners shamelessly inched closer to our table.

By the end of the night I had told a good portion of the stories I had collected, but not all by any means. Nothing revealed my past, nothing hinted at Punjab lassos or gypsy cages, yet I left everyone with the impression that I had the most interesting life out of anyone they had ever met. I even caught the women looking at me differently.

Gemma was very pleased with me.

"Erik you were absolutely fantastic tonight! You had us hanging on your every word! My God, I had ever heard some of those before and I was still fascinated." She kissed my cheek and patted my arm. It was rather funny; she was sitting on the wrong side so she actually kissed my mask, but she was so happy with me she did not seem to notice.

"What go you into such a chatty mood tonight?" She asked me.

"I really do not know," I said honestly, "When I was younger, your age I mean, I used to tell stories all the time. As years past I suppose I just lost the urge to do it."

"Erik you have such a talent for it! I wish you would speak like that more; you have the loveliest voice I have ever heard."

I shrugged, "I suppose I never like the feeling that I am simply entertainment for people."

Gemma nodded, "I understand,"

It was strange; I knew she did.

The following day we had a rather unexpected visit, though I suppose it was bound to happen. Just after noon when Gemma and I were engrossed in our respective business tasks, the Countess Chevalier paid us a visit.

"Mother! What on earth are you doing here!" Gemma stared at her mother in shock when she answered the door.

"Is it too hard to believe that I might want to see my daughter who has been in a different country for nearly six months?" The Countess asked, her manner as she entered the apartment was every bit the refined behavior expected of a woman of her class.

"Yes, that is too hard to believe," Gemma said coolly, "What are you really doing here?"

"Hello Erik," She greeted me with relative warmth.

"Pleased to see you again," I replied. I knew that I should have taken her hand or some other gesture but she did not come close to me and I felt awkward walking to her. Most likely she would not want me to touch her. I stood and gave a curt bow instead.

"Oh Erik don't do that!" Gemma came to my side and linked her arm though mine, "There is no need to show such respect to her; particularly because I believe she is about to chastise us."

The Countess Chevalier sighed, "Well Gemma how could I possibly do anything else? The whole city is talking about your sharing an apartment! I cannot show my face in the salons!"

"Oh how awful for you," Gemma said, her voice positively dripping with sarcasm.

"Oh Gemma do you think only of yourself?" Her mother snapped.

"I am so sorry mother; I had forgotten; my only purpose in life is to do whatever you say to make you happy. I should give up my life, marry Tom Ford, and give you grandchildren!" Gemma glared at her mother.

"Gemma do not be ridiculous," The Countess shook her head, "This is the longest relationship you have ever had and I am proud of you for that. I am not asking that you two end your…love affair! All I ask is that Erik lets an apartment for himself. He does not even have to stay there; it would only be for appearances sake!"

"Mother that is the most ludicrous thing I have ever hear,"

"Wait," I interrupted, "Maybe not,"

"Erik!" Gemma looked at me in shock.

"Listen; it would be a good idea for me to have a place to conduct business." What Gemma did not yet know about me was that when I worked I spread my designs all over the place. My home under the opera had often been covered with music pages. It might be wise to have a separate place to make a mess in.

"You see Gemma? Erik knows how to be sensible," Gabrielle Chevalier nodded at me, "You are taking on more building contracts are you not?"

I was amazed at how quickly word traveled in Paris, "Yes,"

"That is very wise Erik," The Countess said, sitting down on one of Gemma's chairs. We sat also, across from her on the sofa. "Phillip Ferretti is a fine business partner. Working with him will go a long way to boost your reputation."

"Mother!" Gemma was indignant.

"Wait Gemma," I stared at the Countess, "I would be interested to hear; just what is my reputation among the ladies in the _salons_?"

"Well," she blushed a bit, "Everyone tends to believe you are…dubious I suppose is a good word to use; a rogue…mysterious."

I laughed, "What do you think of that?" I asked Gemma.

"You are rather mysterious,"

The Countess interrupted us, "Do I have your word that you will get another apartment Erik?"

"Yes; I do not think I will live there—"

She waved her hand, "That is not a concern to me. I just worry what people say; even you cannot defy all social convention Gemma." Her mother seemed genuinely concerned.

"There are other places near here," Gemma told me, "We may start looking as soon as you like."

I nodded in agreement.

"Are you going to offer me anything to drink Gemma?" Her mother asked her.

"Oh you are staying? I thought now that you had delivered your ultimatum you would leave." Gemma stood however and went to the kitchen, returning with the tea she had put on even before her mother arrived.

"I've just been to see Gisele," Her mother went on, taking the teacup from the silver platter. Gemma sat next to me and I instinctively put my arm around her.

"Oh?" Gemma said with mild interest.

"She is not doing well," her mother said grimly, "I knew this would happen; she looked tired and frustrated. Her face will be a map of worry lines before the summer comes,"

"I warned her," Gemma sighed.

"I know you did; I am not blaming you," Her mother continued, "She has been trying to have a child; it is not going so well."

"Mother perhaps Erik does not want to hear all of this," Gemma glanced at me apologetically.

"I do not mind…unless you two would rather have your privacy? I could go into the other room. I have work to do in any case; Rothschild will want more than an outhouse." I enjoyed the confused reaction this drew from the Countess.

"No Erik it is alright; as long as you do not mind a little gossip," Gemma asked and I kissed her forehead lightly.

"Gemma I never mind what you talk about," I caught the Countess smiling at us.

"I warned her two; Gisele I mean, I told her honeymoons do not last forever. I warned her that her husband might change after the wedding." Her mother went on.

"We knew he would," Gemma added.

The Countess put her tea cup down and cleared her throat, "I have heard something else I thought might interest the two of you; the matter of Bella Sigmund."

I had almost forgotten! I looked at Gemma and I saw her raise her eyebrows.

"Bella, along with the rest of her family, and I mean every known relative, have been removed from all society guest lists. Their house here in Paris was ruined when a _tree_ fell on it and no contractor has been willing to rebuild. They had been staying in a hotel but were asked to leave, a pattern that repeated itself at every other place they went to. Their finances have been strained, their reputation obliterated…Gemma did you have something to do with all of this?"

Gemma shrugged and gave her mother a coy smile, "Perhaps,"

"You have no scruples do you?"

"Not where wicked people are concerned,"

"I did know about what happened," The Countess looked at me quickly, "I have to say I was very shocked, but rather proud of you Gemma, and of Georgette for helping."

"Why on earth would you be proud of _me_?"

Her mother sighed, "Look at your sister; she married a handsome aristocrat and she is quite miserable! I am glad that two of my daughters have spines."

I was quite shocked. I had assumed that the disapproval of the Count would be shared by the Countess.

"Mother," Gemma smiled at her, "You like the idea of Erik and I don't you?"

"Well," The Countess broke eye contact with her daughter, "It is not exactly ideal; when you were borne I never dreamed of the day that a masked man would come and sweep you off of your feet! Still, better this than your previous _relationships_,"

Gemma laughed, "I am pleased to hear that,"

"Love is a rare thing in our circle," Her mother continued seriously, "Should you find anything like it…well Gemma, you are the last women on earth who needs to fret over their reputation or their finances, so if you have happiness on top of that; I suppose you will have everything."

"Thank you for understanding mother," Gemma seemed genuinely happy that the Countess approved, "Though I wouldn't have listened to you in any case," She added, just to spite her mother.

"As long as you do not marry—"

"Mother I will marry whoever I wish!" Gemma was suddenly enraged.

"Oh let me finish you high strung girl!" Her mother scolded her, "I was going to say, as long as you do not marry a man that will make you unhappy just to please your father."

Gemma shook her head, "This situation with Gisele is really bothering you isn't it?"

"Well I was so shocked! You know your sister; she has never frowned a day in her life! Now it seems as though it is all she can do!"

"What has her husband done to distress her so? If you do not mind my asking," I quickly turned to Gemma, wondering if I was wrong to pry but she patted my knee; a gesture telling me it was a valid question.

"He was raised to live in a different era I am afraid," The Countess sighed, "His wife is his property; she is there to entertain his guests, help his mother, and have their children. He on the other hand may stay out all hours of the night; cavorting with young women…I am afraid Gisele is terribly disappointed in what she believed marriage to be."

It was a sad tale to be sure. When I thought of that delightful, kind woman who I had once cared for, who had always shown me some compassion, with a broken spirit I could not help but pity the poor creature.

"Well what would you like me to do mother? Have a tree fall onto their house?" Gemma asked.

"So you did do that?"

"You will never prove a thing,"

Her mother sighed, "No; I suppose there is nothing we can do now. Gisele will not separate from him…once she has children she will be happy again."

Gemma sighed; I knew that to her a lifetime trapped in an empty marriage would not be improved by any amount of offspring.

"How is Georgette?" Gemma changed the subject.

"Excellent; she received a request to join the shows; something I daresay you orchestrated," Gemma smiled proudly at this, "She is also in love again; a boy she met at the Christmas Ball."

"And do we approve of this new beau?" Gemma asked.

"He seems suitable enough; very keen on Georgette I believe. He comes from a good family, wealthy enough to tempt any young woman."

"Erik," The Countess turned to me suddenly, "It may go a way in changing the Count's mind about you; who were your parents? They were French; I might have heard of them."

"Mother do not bother Erik with silly questions like that," Gemma said quickly but I gave her an answer in any case.

"I am sorry to say, Countess, that I did not know my parents; I could not tell you who they were. How do you think that will sit with the Count?" I responded listlessly.

"Oh! Well…if you did not know them then there is nothing that can be done I suppose," The Countess sighed, "And Erik you may as well call me Gabrielle; we are not strangers after all."

A small victory but a victory none the less. I suppose I did want to be accepted by Gemma's family. I wanted them to acknowledge that I was good enough for their daughter; that I was the best man for her. It seemed as though I had that from all of them except the Count.

The Countess stayed for awhile more and I was under the impression that though neither woman would admit it, they valued each other's confidence. At one point, Gemma rose to refill the teapot and left me alone with her mother.

"Erik," The Countess lowered her voice to a whisper, "I did not want to ask you in front of Gemma but…this whole affair may make other men hesitant to marry her; you will be willing to do that eventually will you not? You aren't simply going to take what you can for free?"

"Gabrielle," I forgot any sort of offence I might have taken to her words because we had little time before Gemma returned and I wanted her to know, "I would marry her tomorrow if I thought she was ready,"

This confession was received with considerable relief.

The Countess left late in the afternoon; she needed to hurry to change before dinner at the family mansion.

"Erik what would you like to do for supper?" Gemma asked me after her mother had left.

"You mean we have no set plans?" I was honestly surprised.

"No," She laughed, "We only take dinner together every other night."

"Yes of course! How silly of me to forget," I could not keep from rolling my eyes at her.

We decided to walk around a bit. The weather was not too awfully cold and strolling about felt quite refreshing after sitting all day in the apartment. We agreed to choose whatever place caught our eye. I enjoyed the slight feeling of spontaneity. Talking about my travels had got me to thinking about how dearly I would enjoy a little adventure. I had not felt this way in years; I had been feeling much too old for that sort of thing. However lately I realized that though I was no spry youth, I still had some spirit left in me.

We chose a very small, out of the way place. The inside was dimly lit, the tables hardly fit two, but the fare was excellent.

Heading back I noticed how drastically the temperature had dropped and we hurried to escape the winter winds. When we entered the lobby of Gemma's apartment a surprise was waiting for us.

"Nadir!" I was absolutely shocked to see him there. "Where is Victoria?"

"At home," He spoke in a way that made me think he was hiding something quite serious. We had known each other for years and I could recognize his moods.

"Erik…I need to talk to you," He said awkwardly.

"Of course," I beckoned him to follow us up the stairs.

Gemma went into the bedroom under the pretense of drawing a bath but I knew she was giving us some privacy.

"Nadir is something wrong? Is Victoria well?" I asked nervously. I would hate for the second love of his life to go awry.

"No she is fine," Nadir waved his hand dismissively at this notion, "It is just that…I am having a…problem,"

"Oh well," I shrugged, "That happens to most men at some point, I hear. It is really not something you should worry about. Victoria is a sweet girl; she will understand."

Nadir stared at me blinking and then grew angry, "No! Erik you dolt not _that_ kind of problem! Everything is fine…in the bedroom, not that it is any of your business."

"Well you are the one who told me you had a problem!" I blistered at his sudden rage.

"No no…this has to do with…Erik, I…" He clearly did not wish to say whatever it was that troubled his mind, something I found quite irksome.

"Nadir what is it?" I asked in a very frank tone, "Can you still not trust me enough to speak freely?"

"I need money Erik," He finally spit out, "I could have sustained myself as a bachelor but with Victoria…and she is talking about children…I simply do not have the funds."

The poor man looked most ashamed of this but I was relieved. Something as trivial as money was an issued easily fixed.

"Nadir you old fool! Why did you not just ask me?" I laughed heartily at him, "How much do you think you shall need a month? Name whatever number suits you and it is yours."

"Erik I can not do that!"

"Fine; write down the number and I promise I shan't look at it until you leave."

"No Erik," He said firmly, "I would not feel right, taking your money,"

"Why ever not? I certainly do not need it all!"

"But you should not have to support me; I am not a charity case,"

"Is this because you believe my money to be tainted or something you self righteous old fool?" I demanded, "Because you think it is ill gotten gains?"

"No! And a good deal of it _was_ ill gotten Erik," He could not resist scolding me.

"Fine; but if you do not want money what is it that you are after?" I asked in frustration.

"I need a _job_ Erik,"

"You will work for me then," I said, thankful that problem was also easy to solve.

"Work for you?" He stared at me, "Work for you doing what? I am not going to let you pay me to run your errands."

"Do not be ridiculous! I am going to start contracting again. You remember that Ferretti fellow from Deauville? He is handling the cliental at the moment, but that could change. You can do whatever it is you like," I was more than happy to lend any aid to him I could; I owed a great deal to Nadir.

"Erik I do not know a thing about contracting; I would not be a very good employee," He said grimly.

"Nadir you told me you were in need of a job! I am offering you one! I promise we will find something you enjoy doing."

He let out a long breath, "Erik I cannot tell you how much I appreciate this. Victoria's parents are expecting a lot from me; they are very protective of their daughter."

I nodded, motioning from him to take a seat and relax, "I understand."

"Are Gemma's parents giving you a difficult time of it?" He asked me, and I could see his brows unknotting even as he spoke. Nadir must have been very worried about his financial situation indeed.

"Actually we just had the Countess pay us a visit this afternoon. She was surprisingly supportive; I have her blessing even to marry Gemma."

Nadir raised his eyebrows, "That is good news; and the Count? What does he say?"

"That Thomas Ford would be far preferable to me."

"Who is Thomas Ford?"

"A man Gemma met in America; some rich ass who has his sights set on her." I could speak lightly of Thomas Ford because I did not feel threatened by him. I was rather annoyed with him, and should he grow more bothersome I might become angry, but for the moment I felt no need to fret over him.

"And what does Gemma say?"

I gave him a reproachful stare, "She does not care for Ford. Really Nadir I would have thought that by now at least you could let go of your reservations about her. You have to admit she has been perfect to me in every way."

Nadir nodded, "I know, I know; I have no choice but to agree. She has been wonderful; everything you deserve in a woman."

"And it is damn time you admitted that,"

"Erik I always hoped you would have this," Nadir said seriously and I understood what he was hinting at. He need not have bothered; I knew that Nadir was far too good a man to ever be envious of me or wish any ill fate upon me.

"I know that," I waved my hand dismissively, "Nadir I know this is an idea foreign to us but I believe we are _happy_…and with a good chance of remaining so! Now I want you to get out of here," He made to protest but I would not allow it, "Go Nadir! I will not forget your request; do not fret over a thing! Go home! Enjoy your wife!"

"Thank you Erik," Nadir knew it was pointless to argue with me and got up, taking his coat and hat.

"Really Nadir, you know it is the least I can do," I assured him as we went to the door.

"You could do a lot less Erik," He spoke in a very serious tone, one I noted he only ever abandoned around Victoria. "You have done much less; but not now. You have done a very good thing with your life my friend."

His complement was unexpected and I was unprepared. "Come now Nadir there is no need to be so serious all the time! Go on; Victoria will be missing you. I will be in touch, tomorrow I should say."

Nadir offered me a small smile. He knew me; he knew this was the best response he could hope to receive from his complement.

"Good night Erik; give Gemma my best,"

"I will," I said, and then added, "Tell Victoria that I hope she is well."

He nodded, still smiling, and then made his way out, down to the streets below. I shut the door after he departed and could not help but feel the swell of emotions that can only come when one realizes that two most miserable, lonely men have found love.

As I entered our bedroom I saw was Gemma sitting up in the bed, an open book in her hands. I went and joined her, not even bothering to remove my clothes.

"Is everything alright?" She asked me, setting her book aside for a moment. I laid my head in her lap and she began to run her fingers lightly through my hair. I saw immediately why cats loved this so much; the touch of her fingertips was quite relaxing.

"Yes,"

"What did Nadir need?"

"Employment,"

"Erik if you would rather not tell me just say so,"

"No no, it is nothing like that! Forgive me darling I was a bit distracted," I said quickly. I had still been caught up in how fortunate Nadir and I had been in the last few months.

"Nadir needed a job and I offered him one,"

"You offered him one?"

"Yes; he can work for me,"

"And what will he be doing for you?"

"To be honest I have not really worked that through yet; but I shall find something. Then I plan to pay him exorbitantly for it." I chuckled at the thought of having Nadir refill my ink wells and then give him twenty five thousand franks a month.

"Does Nadir want to work for you?" She asked.

"I am sure he will not mind. True, he does not know a thing about the business, but he will learn quickly enough if I teach him."

Gemma laughed, "You are a fine teacher Erik…what was Nadir's job before? He did work at some point did he not?"

"When I met him he was daroga of Mazanderan,"

"What does that mean?"

I could have slapped myself! Here I had planned on keeping Persia away from Gemma because she had no need to know, and I was bringing it up myself! With hardly any probing to do so!

"He was the chief of police, in Persia," I knew that even if I lied to her she would find out the truth somehow by asking everyone under the sun what a daroga was and where was Mazanderan.

"Erik you never told me you had been to Persia," Gemma started at me.

"Well…it was a very long time ago," I spoke in a dark tone and to her credit the lovely woman seemed to understand.

"Erik do you think Nadir would like to work in the police force again?" She asked, leaving the topic of Persia completely.

"Perhaps; but I would not know how to secure that job for him."

"I could get it for him," Gemma said simply, "I love to put people I know on the police force."

I thought she was being humorous but when I looked at her I realized she was perfectly serious.

"Gemma you could really do that?"

"Of course! I know quite a few people in law enforcement; tell him if he wants the job it is his." She smiled mischievously.

I sat up so that Gemma and I were eye to eye, "What if he does not want to work with the police?"

"Tell him he can have whatever job he fancies."

"Come now Gemma! Even you can not promise that!"

"Whyever not?" Gemma shook her head and sighed as though I was being particularly dense. "When are you going to realize that I _can_ do anything," She stared at me with a devilish glint in her eyes, "I know someone in every field; Nadir needs only to choose."

"You could not possible know someone everywhere," I shook my head.

"Oh yes I can,"

"Accounting?"

"Robert West,"

"Shipping?"

"Erik please!" She threw her hands up in exasperation. "Give me a challenge! Everyone I know is in shipping! Hell, _I_ am in shipping!"

"Sorry…organized crime?" I was sure this would stump her. The last I heard about these Italian 'business men' in the paper and from rumors reported though Nadir, it was a new development in the world of criminals.

"Erik, Nadir is not going to want to go into _organized_ _crime_,"

"You do not know anyone in organized crime do you?" I teased her.

"Emilio Pucci,"

"You made that up!"

"I did not!" Gemma said in a very mock offended tone, "Emilio is the uncle of Phillip Ferretti; his daughter Sophia was recently put into the shows here in Paris; something I was responsible for. I have met Emilio and I know he is very grateful to me."

I stared at her, "Gemma how is it that a young woman such as yourself knows so many people of so many degrees of respectability?"

She laughed, "Shady characters are just as easy to charm as dukes and counts! And infinitely more helpful I might add."

"Gemma I hope you are not deeply involved with these people," I was suddenly very serious, "They may seem helpful but what will they ask of you in return?"

"Erik it is not like that at all!" She laughed at me, "I would never put myself in that kind of position!"

"I should hope not," I lifted my hand to touch her cheek, "I could not bear to see you hurt."

She laughed softly, "Erik you are a very sweet man. You need not fret over me though. In any case, you are the one working with Phillip; you are much more involved than I am."

"Does Ferretti work with his uncle then?" I asked, hiding my sudden anxiety. I wanted this venture at least to be reputable.

Gemma shook her head, "Not that I know of. I was only teasing you Erik, you need not worry."

"I was not worried," I said quickly, lying back down so that Gemma would stroke my head again. "I was merely asking you a question."

Gemma laughed, once again trailing her fingertips through my hair, "Of course you were darling. Now let me ask you a question; have you thought anything about the New Year's Ball at the opera?"

I stared blankly up at her, "What are you talking about?"

"Well in all of the excitement, of your moving in here that is, I completely forgot it is only days away! There is no time to have a costume hand made, but shall make do; have you any ideas for a theme?"

Her words set my mind spinning, "You are speaking of the ball at _the opera house_?" I repeated dumbly.

"Yes of course! I thought you at least would have noticed that they hold it every year! I _have_ to go; and you should not worry about a thing. We shall just avoid red as a possibility for your costume," she winked at me.

I had no idea for a costume and frankly I did not care. I knew that Gemma really was obligated to go and I did want to escort her but the very thought of that particular party made my stomach twist. Still, I did not refuse to attend; I told Gemma I would dress however she desired. Needless to say, I went to bed uneasy.


	39. Players on the Stage

Players on the Stage

Gemma came through on both of her promises the very next day. By noon, she had found a suitable position for Nadir as a detective. He would be working along side another one of Gemma's 'friends,' at least for now. Nadir happily accepted this position. I was not surprised; Nadir had worked with me enough in Persia to know that I was a most maddening boss.

On the other hand, Gemma unfortunately did not forget the Masked Ball. There seemed to be no limit to the number of ridiculous costume ideas that woman could invent. Bull fighters, flamenco dancers, Mark Antony and Cleopatra, Venus and Mars; to which I suggested rather Venus and Vulcan, for which Gemma hit my shoulder rather forcefully.

With this damn event only days away it would be impossible, as Gemma had stated before, to have any costume hand made for the two of us. However, while Gemma had forgotten this _thrilling_ gala, all the dressmakers of Paris had not.

One hour after Nadir became a detective, racks of costumes were brought in to our apartment for Gemma's inspection. As I understood, these costumes had all been made months ago for Gemma in hopes that she would choose them.

Every dress they had concocted for Paris's favorite society girl was opulently decorated and brightly colored; each detail meant to catch the eye of everyone at the party.

When I looked closer, I discovered with horror that outfits for _me_ had also been designed! Well, of course they were not designed for me specifically; they had been made for whoever Gemma happened to be courting. They were just as loud and ridiculous as Gemma's gowns.

As I saw the tight, blue pants and open white shirt and tiny black jacket I was expected to consider wearing, I knew that I would rather be trapped alone in a room with Raoul listening to la Carlotta sing than wear any of these things.

Gemma must have seen me turn green.

"Erik is there anything here you would even _consider_ wearing?" She asked gently, placing her arm on mine.

"Gemma; look at this! I cannot wear this!" I tugged on another embarrassing costume.

Gemma sighed and nodded, "What would you be willing to go as darling?"

"I will wear a normal suit; I shall simply tell people that my costume did not fit correctly."

Gemma frowned, "Erik this could be enjoyable you know! It is not as though you will be the only one; everyone dresses up!"

"Gemma I am not going to be able to enjoy myself dressed as a…what in hell is this supposed to be anyway?" I tugged at one of the costumes on the rack; red and blue pants and a top with bells on it.

"Court jester," Gemma and I had to laugh as neither of us could keep from picturing me as a court jester. Yet when I thought about showing up dressed as a court clown I felt a bit ill.

"Come Erik there must be something here you would wear! It is only for one night remember," She coaxed me to keep looking.

"Wait, what is this one?" I found a suit that was basically normal, with only a few wild embellishments. The material itself was shot through with golden threads while other details, buttons and clasps and so on, were done in a very deep red.

"Oh!" One of the eager dress makers stepped forward and blushed, "That was brought by mistake."

"But what is it?" I prodded.

"It is a…a gentleman who would run a…a house of ill repute," The dressmaker wrung his hands nervously, "We would never suggest you wear those costumes."

I was interested however, "Is _this_ what she would have to wear?" I asked, noting the companion costume for Gemma was a rather risqué ensemble.

"Erik I am not going as a whore!" Gemma said adamantly.

"Why not? It is only one night remember? Everyone will be dressed up after all," I said, throwing her own words back at her.

Gemma put her hands on her hips, "Erik I am not going to go as a prostitute!"

I laughed, "Come now darling! You would look fantastic in this!" I handed her the outfit.

She did not take it from me. I could tell that Gemma was not amused so I did not press the matter.

In the end we reached a compromise. I would wear the suit of ill repute while Gemma chose a stunning royal blue gown made unique by the fact that the hem in the front fell just above her knees, but was longer in the back.

We were going to be a magician and his assistant. I quickly taught her a few very simple tricks she could _assist_ me with, and if anyone wanted anything more I would be willing to perform. I would have done a song and dance routine, just as long as I did not have to dress up like a clown.

It was odd how in the lonely months when I had been parted from Gemma a day seemed to last a year but now that I was with her twenty four hours passed in the blink of an eye.

In no time at all we were in a carriage heading for the infamous Paris Opera. Arriving was surreal; I was truly on the other side now. How many years had I watched from the rafters as these glittering socialites waltzed in to my opera?

I was not without reservations; this place was the source of too much pain for me to completely stave off apprehension.

Immediately however I knew that this was not to be like my previous visits to the opera. How these women managed this I had no idea but we arrived at nearly the same moment as the rest of Gemma's circle.

I was quite relieved to see that the rest of the men had fared much worse than I in the costume department. Westwood was all ruffles and velvet; we were quickly told he and his wife were Romeo and Juliet.

"Not a word," He muttered to us when his wife had turned her back. I repressed laughter but just barely. Ferretti and Daria had dressed as flamenco dancers and the fabric used in my business partner's costume was curiously tight and stretchy. He looked truly heinous.

Poor Van Noten was not any better off; he was wearing lederhosen.

I wondered if these men really loved their women that much more than I loved Gemma because I never would have dressed that way, not even for her. Perhaps Gemma simply loved me enough not to ask me to do such a thing.

My comfort soon dissipated however as we neared the entrance to the Opera. Apparently, some guests would have to wait to enter while attendees like Gemma and her circle would be allowed to enter right away.

Waiting for her cue to enter was none other than Bella Sigmund. She stood in front, just out of reach of the Opera doors. It was the first time I had seen her since the incident and her face alone recalled sharp pangs of betrayal. Her eyes caught mine and I knew this evening would not pass peacefully.

"You freak! I cannot even believe they would let you back into the opera house after learning what that mask is hiding!" She screamed at me and a hush fell over all those in earshot, slowly spreading to the entire crowd waiting to enter.

Apparently, being kicked off the social scene entirely by Gemma Chevalier had not pleased Bella. She stood with her hands balled in fists; I could practically see the steam shooting out of her ears. She was using this moment to take one last stab and her enemy.

"How much did you have to pay them to let that sideshow act in Gemma?" Bella screeched nastily in Gemma's direction.

I was ready to speak, to tell off this little piece of trash, but something in Gemma's eyes told me to wait a moment.

"Are you truly that simple minded Bella?" Gemma spoke, her tone was normal and even; there was no need to yell as everyone gathered at the opera had stopped to listen.

"Do you really judge based on appearance alone?" Gemma continued chastising Bella in a most dignified but forceful way. "I cannot believe that someone who claims to be well educated would discount such an amazing man because of a face. Further," Her voice grew colder, more incensed, "I cannot understand a woman so petty, so self involved, that she would risk the feelings of another simply to act out some ridiculous revenge plot."

The irony of Gemma Chevalier, the woman loved mostly for her looks, chiding someone for being superficial was not lost on me but it was on the rest of the crowd. I had no doubt that Bella could feel their disapproving stares.

"You are common Bella; a common, simple girl. You have no vision, no insight into anything real. I feel sorry for you, for having to live with yourself in such an empty, meaningless existence."

Gemma's words hit the heart of the girl deeply, I could tell. I knew Gemma had planned this; if she had not she might have simply cried out enraged insults. Yet rather than scream at Bella, Gemma had entranced the rest of the crowd. Her graceful composure and her restrained harangue made her appear a sweet angel compared to Bella.

The angry crowd around Bella was Gemma's revenge. They began to mock her, insult her, push her back in line. Besides, if they did something to please Gemma, they might get in to the opera sooner.

It occurred to me that now it was Bella who was being chased away from the opera house amid screams and shouts.

"You planned that did you not?" I muttered in Gemma's ear as we walked through the main doors at last.

"Perhaps; I think that is the last you will see of her darling." Gemma smiled up at me. It was a bit childish I suppose but I did enjoy my complete revenge against Bella Sigmund.

The interior of the opera had been opulently decorated. Hues of burnt yellow, deep purple, wine red, forest green, and midnight blue were draped around tables, drinks, and that magnificent staircase. It was truly a dazzling sight before my eyes. For a moment I saw the entire opera ball; a giant wave rolling toward me with unstoppable power. This would mark my true entrance into society, a most unsettling thought.

Then the wave broke; Gemma and I were surrounded by other guests of the party.

"Oh Gemma you look gorgeous!"

"What a handsome couple the two of you make!"

"What are you dressed as?"

"Erik is a magician and I am his assistant," Gemma answered the question of these guests and we quickly preformed one of the simple tricks I had taught her. It was an easy slide of hand; Gemma took a watch from one of the men and I made it disappear. Still, it stunned the onlookers.

"How did you do that?"

"We all thought you were an architect! You are a magician as well?"

"A true magician never reveals his secrets, or his past," I said cryptically, tipping my hat at them. They were all satisfied with this statement and Gemma and I were allowed to move off in search of champagne.

I had discovered that at events such as this, everyone rushed to greet Gemma and her circle and then for the rest of the night left them well enough alone. No one wanted to risk aggravating Gemma and her friends with incessant chatter; they would never be invited to another party.

We stood on the platform half way up the grand staircase; sipping drinks and watching other guests make fools of themselves.

Among the swirling throng of costumed Parisians I spotted the rest of Gemma's family. There was Gisele; she wore a mask and I could not tell if she was upset as her mother had hinted she was. The Count and Countess stood by her, lavishly dressed in some Grecian ensemble. I looked for Georgette but she was not there; off with her new lover no doubt. However there was someone else standing with the Chevalier family; a man I immediately recognized as Thomas Ford.

I remembered what Ferretti had told me, that Gemma's father wanted her to marry Ford. Not if I had any say in the matter I thought grimly before turning back to listen to our conversation.

"Gemma you always think of the best costumes," Lily shook her head, "It took me a month just to come up with this!" She motioned to her and her husband.

"You should have listened to me," Derek Westwood said, quickly downing his champagne. I believed his plan was to drink so much that he forgot what he was wearing.

Lily sighed, "Derek no one is Paris knows what a _cowboy_ is! We would have looked ridiculous!"

"As apposed to how we look now," Westwood looked down at his ruffled shirt, "I know I have never felt better." His sarcasm was apparent to all.

"I think it suits you," Ferretti smirked, "Those ruffles…what are you always saying Daria? Bring out your eyes."

"And you look wonderful; the most beautiful ballerina in the opera," Westwood fired back.

"Oh you two!" Daria cast a disapproving stare at both of them, "It could be worse! Look at that gentleman down there! He is dressed as a chicken!"

We all looked in the direction Daria had indicated and took comfort in the thought that at the very least, none of us were dressed as a barn yard animal.

The orchestra was in its usual place at the top of the stair case and they played constantly for the entertainment of the guests. I could hear at least five instruments that were out of tune, an annoyance I conquered by actually stopping the orchestra and fixing the offending violin, two trumpets, cello, and a tuba. When they started to play again the difference was most likely only audible to me but at least I could dance in peace.

Gemma was ever light on her feet, always graceful on any dance floor. I knew all eyes were on her when she twirled about.

Between dancing, endless champagne, and the amusement that came from shocking guests with magic, the Masked Ball was not as painful as it might have been.

Of course no one was talking about the possibility that I was the very same masked man who had once come to this party uninvited. No one would dare draw the line between the Phantom and myself. At first I had been supremely nervous about this; surly someone would wonder how many masked men were in Paris. However I discovered that no one cared; as long as Gemma loved me, so would they.

It had been ages since I had felt the urge to entertain anyone with magic but when party guests clamored to see more I did not deny them. It was very different than when I had preformed in Russia; I had the respect and adoration of these people. They applauded with delight, they complemented my talent, and most importantly, they did not beg for me to remove my mask.

I was able to perform some of my very favorite things. Levitation, hypnotism, ventriloquism; the crowd loved it all. I turned to ask Gemma for assistance with something however and I discovered she was not at my side.

That was not unusual. I assumed she had gone off to speak to Lily or Daria or Katharine. I finished the trick I was performing and then excused myself to find Gemma.

I came across Lily and stopped her, "Have you seen Gemma?" I asked.

"No," Lily furrowed her brows, "She is not with you?"

"If she were with me I would not be asking if you had seen her."

Lily nodded, "I see; well do not worry she will be found."

However Gemma was not found. Westwood, Ferretti, Van Noten, Daria and Katharine were all found but no one had seen Gemma.

I felt an odd prickling on my neck. I knew that Gemma had probably become waylaid by some talkative guests but something was making me nervous.

"Erik!"

I spun when I heard my name and found Georgette behind me. She was dressed as a fairy I believe, judging by the pink wings on her back.

"Georgette have you seen your sister?" I asked quickly.

She nodded and grabbed my hand, pulling me toward the opera doors.

"Georgette what is happening?" I asked as she knocked over a guest in her rush to get to the door.

"Father; he had this idea…Erik it is too complicated to explain but Tom Ford is taking Gemma home,"

"What!"

"She is not in control Erik," We reached the doors, "Just go out there and get her!"

I had not understood a word of what she said but I saw clearly enough that Gemma was being walked down the stairs leading out of the opera house by Thomas Ford.

In two quick steps I was at Gemma's side.

"What in hell is going on?" I asked her.

She looked up at me blinking. Immediately I could see that something was wrong with her. She looked pale; her eyes were glossy and confused. I saw now that Ford had his hands on her arms, holding her up and keeping her from falling.

"You should have taken better care of her," Ford had the nerve to scorn me, "She is not feeling well and she asked me to take her home."

Damn him! There were people everywhere, watching and listening to the three of us, and I knew that if I simply grabbed her and carried her off I would look like a brut.

"Get out of the way Erik," Ford said calmly, "Gemma asked me to bring her home and that is what I plan to do."

I was standing in front of Gemma, facing the opera house. Guests had come out now and were watching this little scene. They heard Ford; they heard him say that Gemma had asked him to bring her home.

Gemma was staring at me. I knew she wanted me to get Ford away from her but she could not speak, she could hardly stand.

"I brought her here, I will bring her home," I said, taking one of Gemma's hands.

"She does not want you; she is afraid of you," Ford spoke for all to hear.

"Is there some problem here?" I looked up suddenly to see Count Chevalier coming toward us, "Gemma; is something the matter darling?" The Count came up beside her and inspected his daughter.

He gasped when he saw her face, "What have you done to her!" He rounded on me, accusing me of causing her state.

I could not believe what was happening! They had done something to her, put something in her drink. Now I was being publicly blamed for hurting Gemma. What was I to do? I was bound from simply ripping her out of Ford's hands by the gathering audience.

Yet what other choice did I have? I could not let Gemma be taken away by the very people who had conspired to harm her. I would have to take her back by force if necessary; to hell with the consequences.

This would be the end; even if I tried to pull Gemma away they might not let me. In a flash I pictured Westwood and Ferretti running out to restrain me. Perhaps they were part of this scheme as well; perhaps no one wanted to see me with Gemma and this had been their way of ripping us apart.

I was too strange, and with Gemma I was too powerful. Thomas Ford made much more sense as her lover; he was young, rich and handsome. I had been a fool to think I had been accepted into Gemma's circle.

Yet what bothered me most was Gemma's physical state; I would be willing to become an outcast again just as long as Gemma was alright.

"Has something happened?"

Lily, followed by Katharine and Daria were coming out.

"Erik has done something to Gemma!" the Count said indignantly.

This was it; they would all turn on me and Gemma would be mind no longer.

"That is impossible!" Daria shook her head and took Gemma's arm; I saw Gemma use all of her strength to lean in to her friend, "Erik have a look at her; what do you think is wrong?"

My relief was so strong I was almost shaking, "I think I should bring her home immediately,"

"I am not letting you take my daughter anywhere!" The Count snapped at me.

There we were; Daria and I had one arm and Ford had the other. We were still trapped; I could not take Gemma with her father spouting accusations at me.

"You are not suggesting Erik did something to her are you?" Now the rest of the men had come out and were surrounding Ford, Daira, Gemma and me. Ferretti was speaking to the Count, "I know that is not possible."

With all these bodies blocking the view of the rest of the crowd Daria and I pulled Gemma away from Ford. Gemma fell forward into my chest. I noticed that her condition was worsening; her eyes were not open any longer and I did not think she could support herself.

"I have to take her now," I could no longer worry about how this looked to the people watching us. I did not bother to ask Ford and the Count what they had given her; I knew they would not have told me. I lifted her up into my arms, careful not to trip as I rushed her down to a carriage.

I hardly noticed that I had been followed. Lily and Daria hopped in behind me, Katharine jumping in only a moment later.

The carriage began to pull away.

"Erik what is the matter with her?" Lily asked, her face dreadfully worried.

"I assume she was drugged," I could not believe something to vile had been done to such a lovely woman by her own father, just because he hated me.

"Will she…die?" Katharine asked the most pressing question.

"No," I said quickly, "I will not allow that."

At the moment that was all the answer I could give them. I did not believe her father would have used poison, but what if he had used too much of something else? Her health was in serious question and I needed to focus my energy on her care.

We reached our apartment and I rushed Gemma upstairs. I laid her on our bed and lit all the lights in our room. By the sound of footfalls I knew I had been followed up stairs but none had come in to the bedroom.

I opened one of her eyes; they looked normal, there was no yellow coloring and her pupils were no longer unusually large. I took up her hand and inspected her finger tips; there was no unusual coloring there either. I listened to her breathing; she was taking normal, long breaths.

She was sleeping; I told myself over and over again, she was only sleeping. I would not allow my mind to wonder into morbid thoughts; Gemma was not dying.

I went out into the living room and six sets of eyes fell on me. Lily and Westwood were there, as were Daria and Ferretti, Katharine and Van Noten.

"She is sleeping," I forced calm into my voice as I spoke.

They all nodded as I sat down heavily on a chair. I put my elbows on my knees and my hands over my face as I told myself again that she was only sleeping.

"Of course she is," Lily said gently, and I felt her hand on my back, "Gemma is a strong girl; she is going to be fine."

There was a knock at the door.

"See who it is," I instructed Daria as she stepped toward it. She looked through the slot in the door first before she opened it.

Georgette entered.

"Erik," She came to my side instantly, "I found out from mother; it was only something to make her sleep. Gemma should be fine."

I nodded but that was all I could say. I had never felt such horror in all my miserable life as when I had believed Gemma would be spirited away in such a questionable physical state by Thomas Ford.

At least I had found that the loyalty of Gemma's circle lay completely with Gemma and therefore with me. Had they not come to my aid…I did not want to think about the possibility of Gemma fast asleep in Ford's control.

I felt so frustrated; one enemy was vanquished just in time to face an attack from another. When would Gemma and I be allowed left alone?

Still, looking up at the people gathered in our apartment, at least Gemma and I had allies.

"I should go in the room with her," I said vaguely, standing again.

"Erik may we come in and see her?" Lily asked me. I noted the concern in her eyes and found a similar expression etched in the face of everyone standing in that room.

"Of course, you may all come if you like. It cannot hurt her," I motioned for them to follow me.

I pulled up a chair next to the bed and sat. This was where I would remain until Gemma woke again.

The rest circled around the bed as well, pulling up chairs and the chase lounge to accommodate themselves. As I looked at them looking at Gemma, I had to admit that had the situation not been so disturbing, there would have been something very comical about Romeo and Juliet, flamenco dancers, Germans, one magician and one fairy sitting in the same bedroom.

We waited nearly two hours while Gemma slept. The others carried on a light conversation but I simply watched her. She always looked so peaceful and angelic when she was sleeping. The way her golden hair fanned out beneath her head, the way her chest rose and fell with every breath she took; I cursed Ford and the Count for tarnishing these qualities.

Gemma woke suddenly and without warning. One moment she was fast asleep and the next her eyes had snapped open and she sat bolt upright.

She looked around her at all of us gathered in the room, "Lord I must be dreaming,"

"No Gemma," I said gently and her eyes darted to mine, "We were at the Masked Ball; we were in costume."

Gemma blinked slowly, "Did I…faint?"

"You fell asleep," I told her dialectically.

Gemma sat there for a few minutes, looking around her. I could see the memories flying back to her. I almost wished that she could forget them altogether.

"I did not _fall_ _asleep_," She said quietly.

"Gemma I had no idea," Georgette said quickly, stepping toward the bed, "As soon as I saw I ran and found Erik."

Gemma ran her hand over her face and then through her hair, pushing the golden locks out of her eyes, "I know you had nothing to do with this Georgette. Did mother know?"

She shook her head, "No, not until it was to late."

Gemma looked up at her sister with a cold malice in her eyes, "So I have Father to thank entirely?"

Georgette shook her head, "Ford may have had a hand in it as well."

"I see," Gemma said grimly, "I had no idea Father had taken such objection to Erik."

"It is Mother's fault really," Georgette sighed, "She told Father you and Erik," Her eyes flicked to me briefly, "Were a fine couple, that there was a wedding in your future. She thought Father would be happy, that at least you would be married, but it made him more determined to separate you."

"You might have warned me Georgette," Gemma snapped.

"I had no idea!" Georgette looked upset, "I thought he might have chastised you, something you could more than handle, but I never thought he would…" Her voice trailed off.

Gemma sighed, "I know, I am sorry; none of this was your fault." Gemma looked around at everyone in the room, "Thank you all for being so concerned, but I would like to be alone now, please."

I stared at her; the last thing I wanted to do was leave her but she had asked to be alone. Perhaps she was angry with me? I should have been there to protect her sooner! While I had been indulging in vanity, performing for strangers, poor Gemma had almost been dragged away! She deserved to be cross with me.

"Erik where are you going?" Gemma asked me as I stood to follow everyone else out of the room.

"You…you said you wanted to be alone,"

"Alone with you," Gemma reached out her hand to me and I quickly took it, sitting back down next to her.

"Gemma I am so sorry," I rushed into an apology, "I should have been with you the whole night, then this would not have happened."

"Erik this is the fault of no one except my idiot Father and that ass Thomas Ford," Gemma shook her head, "You know Erik, of all the things I expected from my own Father, I never for one moment believed that he could do something like this to me!"

I felt awful for the poor girl. How terrible it must have been to learn that she could not trust her Father; at least with my family there had been no delusions. I had known all along that my Mother did not care for me, but deep down Gemma had believe her Father truly did love her. To realize he could be so cruel…I knew why there were tears in her eyes.

Moving from the chair to the bed I wrapped my arms around her, allowing her body to rest against mine.

"Erik you are the only man I can really trust! You are more my family than my own Father!" Gemma pressed harder against me, "You and…and all the rest of them," She motioned to the door of the bedroom through which her friends had exited.

"Gemma…I could be your…your real family," I said slowly. This was not the appropriate moment, this hardly made sense but the more I thought about it, the more I realized that there was one way that Gemma and I could be joined, one way we could protect each other.

"What are you talking about Erik?" Gemma pulled back, staring at me.

"I am saying that…when I thought you could be taken away from me…I felt this awful shredding inside, like someone was ripping me apart. Gemma I cannot lose you, you mean everything to me! We could be together, no one would be able to come between us."

"Erik what are you trying to say?"

She must have known what I was implying but her face gave me no sign not to ask. Gemma stared at me with wide eyes, her breath had even caught in her chest.

I was feeling a bit odd myself. Little droplets of precipitation were gathering on my forehead and a knot was developing in the back of my throat.

"Marry me Gemma."

We were both stunned that I had actually asked. We sat there for a few moments in absolute silence. She was staring at me with a rather blank look on her face.

God what if she said no? We could never go back from that! There would always be an awkward feel between us. How could I have asked her to marry me! I did not even have a ring for her! Just when she needed my support I had asked her to do something that I knew she was not comfortable with. How had I made such a mess of this? It was just like me to ruin everything…

"Yes."


	40. Calm and Storms

"What?" I felt my jaw drop.

Gemma laughed at me, "Yes Erik; I will marry you."

I felt a ringing in my ears, a lump in my stomach.

"Erik you really surprised me! I was not expecting a proposal!" Gemma turned, circling her arms around my neck and kissing my cheek. "Oh for goodness sake Erik say something!"

"I…I…"

"Erik what is wrong with you? I said 'yes!' you should be happy!"

I shook my head, "Gemma _happy_ does not do this justice," I pressed my lips to hers.

When our kiss ended, our first kiss as an engaged couple, Gemma looked up at me with shock in her eyes.

"Erik I never thought you would ask!"

"I did not think you wanted me to!"

She giggled, yes; it was no laugh. It was a giddy sound made by young girl in love.

"I did not think I wanted you to either."

"Gemma…you are not marrying me just to spite your father are you?" I had to ask.

"No! Erik I am going to marry you because I love you, and if there is one thing I have learned tonight it is that I never, ever want to be parted from you. That is marriage I think," She smiled at me, "I am going to be your wife!"

I kissed the top of her head.

"I am sorry Gemma; I do not have a ring for you."

"Oh Erik do not worry about that! You will get a ring when you get one."

"Gemma," I could not keep from grinning wildly, "I cannot really believe this! I have…I have never felt this happy in my entire life."

Years I had been an addict to morphine but I had never experienced a high like this. This was pure, unadulterated joy. Coming so quickly after such intense worry made me feel all the more ecstatic.

Gemma was going to marry me. No one would be able to take her away after that. More importantly, I would never be alone again. This thought kept cursing through me; I would never be pushed in to solitude, spending days and nights without company. Whatever thought came into my head, whatever happened, Gemma would be there to share it with me.

I kissed her again. Was is possible to die from happiness? Since I had met her in Deauville, I had believed that if, somehow, I could convince Gemma to spend the rest of her life with me, I would have everything I had ever wanted.

This was better than music, better than architecture; better even than how I had felt the night I had failed to commit suicide.

After every winding path my life had traveled, after all the dark, hopeless episodes of my childhood, the terror of my adolescence, and the tangled poisoned vines of rage and frustration which had almost swallowed me in adult hood, this was the end.

Gemma was the prize I had been awaiting. She was the _socialite_ at the end of my tunnel. If I thought about it, she had come into my life and set right everything against me. I was allowed to be human like any other man, all because of her.

"I am happy to Erik," Gemma smiled, shifting her body so that she faced me. Whatever drug she had been given it did not appear to have greatly harmed her. She was perfectly awake and alert. Moreover, she was just as excited as I to be engaged.

"I am sorry darling but we shall have to hold a fairly sizable wedding. If we do not we are going to have well wishers dropping in on us morning, noon, and night. But after that," Gemma smiled and her eyes glowed, "We can do whatever we please; go wherever we please."

The thought of running off with Gemma to the far corners of the world was almost as exciting as the prospect of marrying her. I knew we would need a large wedding; Gemma was a public figure and European society was going to be part of her wedding, invited or not.

I could put up with a day of hell for an eternity of heaven. Besides, it would be our wedding. Euphoria would numb me against any sort of unpleasantness.

"Should we tell them?" I asked her, nodding in the direction of the living room where Gemma's friends were congregated.

Gemma nodded, "Come; I can walk. I am fine now Erik." With a rather energetic bounce Gemma hopped off the bed.

I took her hand as we left the bedroom. If she suddenly lost her strength I could catch her.

"Gemma! Oh thank goodness you are better!" Lily jumped out of her chair when she saw her friend.

"Are you sure you should be up and walking?" Katharine asked with concern.

Gemma shook her head, "I am fine," She looked over her shoulder at me, smiling wildly. I myself could not keep the grin from my face.

"Whatever is the matter with the two of you?" Daria asked suspiciously, her eyes flitting from me to Gemma.

"We have an announcement," Gemma said, hardly able to contain herself, "Erik has asked me to marry him, and I said yes!"

Everyone stared at us in shock for a few moments before running to us, embracing us both in turn.

"Congratulations," Ferretti clapped me on the back jovially.

"You will love married life I am sure," Westwood took my hand.

"I am sure the two of you will be very happy together," Viktor Van Noten, a man I did not know very well but seemed like a good fellow, offered me his hand as well.

"Gemma this is so exciting!" Katharine embraced her friend.

"We never thought you would actually marry!" Daria teased her and I saw Gemma roll her eyes.

"I can help you plan the wedding if you would like," Lily offered up her experience, "They can be quite an ordeal."

"Thank you, thank all of you," Gemma smiled. She stood close to me and I put my arm protectively around her waist. If for any reason she needed my assistance I would be ready. More than that however I simply wanted to be near her. After what had happened that night, I swore I would always be with her, a constant guardian.

"When will the wedding be?" Georgette asked, stepping forward and taking her sister's hand.

"Erik and I have not discussed that yet," Gemma looked up at me, "Did you have any ideas darling?"

"No," I said honestly, "But I want you to plan the ceremony Gemma; I have no talent or patience for these sort of things." The very idea of me planning what was sure to be the most talked about social event in years was nothing less than comical.

Gemma nodded, "Not to worry Erik I will take care of everything. Of course, if you do have any ideas I will be sure to use them."

"Where will you get your dress made?"

"We are all going to be in the wedding yes?"

"Do you want help with the guest list?"

It was amazing how eager and excited the idea of a wedding had gotten all of them. I wondered how her Father would react. Not well I imagined.

"I really have no idea," Gemma looked around at everyone gathered in our sitting room. She seemed grateful for their enthusiasm, "I have no thought about it; we just got engaged! You will have to give me some time to plan before I can tell anyone anything."

"Of course," Lily nodded, "Whatever you need, just tell us."

"I shall," Gemma assured her.

"Well," Westwood took out his pocket watch, "This has been a very exciting evening; Erik and Gemma, I could not be happier for the two of you. However, I think it is time we all went on our way. You two deserve a little time alone."

Everyone agreed; it was quite late and we had all had our share of excitement for the night.

However Gemma and I were not to be completely alone. Georgette did not want to go home. We could not blame her; we were sure the Count would be angry with her for helping me.

Georgette was settled in the guest room; Gemma supplied her with a nightgown and other toiletries. After that we retired to our own room. I was desperate to get out of my costume; it had not been tailored properly and it had become rather uncomfortable.

Gemma was changing as well. I helped her undo her dress but when she went to hang it up I saw her knees buckle. I was there in one step; I caught her under her arms.

"Oh," Gemma leaned on me, "I feel…a little light headed."

Since Gemma weighed all of one hundred pounds it was easy to scoop her up and carry her to the bed. I wondered how many times in our marriage I would do the same thing.

"Just sit here," I told her, "I will fetch you some water." She nodded and I hurried off to get her a glass.

"Erik am I sick? I am not dying am I?" Gemma asked me very seriously when I returned.

"No! No you are just fine darling. A little woozy perhaps but that will pass." I assured her, sitting on the bed beside her, kissing the top of her head.

"Erik I know it is very late now, but I am not tired…will you talk with me?" She asked, looking at me with large, round eyes.

"Of course; how could I deny my fiancé?" I could not keep from smiling as the word 'fiancé' left my mouth.

Gemma giggled again, "Oh Erik I could not be any happier. I had no idea how badly I wanted this until you asked me. I feel just wonderful."

"That is a relief to hear," I laughed, "I never thought you would want to marry me. I never imagined I would be so lucky."

"To be honest Erik, if you had told me at the beginning of the summer that I would be engaged by January I never would have believed it. I suppose I was…having trouble accepting what I wanted to do."

"You mean you did not want to believe that you actually wanted to get married?" I asked her, not sure how to feel about this revelation.

She nodded, "Yes; but you are just so amazing I knew I had to marry you." This made me feel a bit better.

"If you like I will go and buy a ring tomorrow," I told her and she smiled.

"I would like that; just so the engagement can feel official. It need not be anything too fancy darling, just a simple ring will do."

I laughed at her, "How about I just twist a piece of wire in a circle?" She looked horrified, "Gemma I am going to find you the most beautiful ring in Paris. Anything else is not worthy of your hand." I lifted her ring finger to my lips and kissed it.

Gemma flushed red, "Erik you are a truly hopeless romantic."

The sun had nearly risen when Gemma and I fell asleep at last. We had discussed everything; where the wedding would be held, when the wedding would be held, and most importantly where we would go after we married.

This was what I looked forward to; life after the wedding. Gemma and I would be free to begin our lives together. I would not live from day to day wondering just when Gemma would realize she was too good for me.

I did think she was more than I deserved. There was nothing to be done about this; to me she would always be too wonderful, too amazing to be true. Yet at the same time, I did not believe that any other man could love Gemma as much as I did. In that way alone could I feel worthy of her.

In the early afternoon when we woke again we felt another surge of excitement; this would be our first full day as an engaged couple.

Georgette came along with us when we left for the jewelry shop. It was not ideal; I would have liked to surprise Gemma with a ring. However I had no plans to be away from Gemma, for her own safety.

Gemma led the way; I expected she knew every fine jeweler in Paris. I wondered how much a ring was going to cost me. It was well that I had sent off a design to Rothschild. The man had been enamored with it and sent me a sizable advanced payment.

"Erik," Gemma turned to me as we stepped in off the freezing street and moved away from the door, "I know it might be too expensive, but this is the one I have…had my eye on, I would say."

She pulled me over to a case and pointed, "See the one? It is three from the top…just there."

I did indeed spot the ring she was indicating. As always, Gemma had excellent taste, but with a flare for the unusual. The cut was perfect for her; a solitary square canary diamond.

The ring was exactly what I had pictured giving to her. I did not care if it cost me everything I had I would get it for her.

"Mademoiselle," I motioned to the woman behind the counter. She had been staring at Gemma, Georgette and I since we had come through the door and practically jumped when I asked for her assistance.

"We will take that one please," I told her.

"Excellent…excellent choice," The woman's hand trembled a bit as she reached in for the ring. She took it out and gave it to Gemma.

Gemma received it eagerly from the woman's shaking hand and slipped it on to her right middle finger.

"Ah! It fits! I was worried I would need it resized." Gemma showed me her hand proudly, "What do you think?"

"I think it is perfect," I smiled at the sight before me; the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, who I loved so much it hurt, wearing an engagement ring. My fiancée, she was truly my fiancée.

"I will, excuse me, I will just pay you then shall I?" I said to the woman, who was staring blankly at Gemma. The woman shook her head, coming out of her trance.

"Yes, of course Monsieur." Since talking about money was gouache, the woman wrote down the price on a little slip of paper, putting it face down on the counter. I flipped it over while Gemma moved off to show her sister the ring.

It was indeed very expensive; the price of a house for most people. However I did have the money and it was worth it to get Gemma what she wanted.

"Monsieur…you are _Erik Bonheur_…are you not?" The woman asked me, almost hesitantly.

"Yes," I said carelessly.

"And she…she is _Gemma_ _Chevalier_?" She nodded at Gemma and her sister.

"Yes,"

"Are you …engaged…to be _married_?" The woman's eyes were wide.

Of course; the reason this woman had been staring at us was because she knew us. She had read the papers, she had heard the gossip. No doubt she had been wondering when Gemma would leave me and break my heart as she had done countless times in the past. Knowing we were engaged must have been quite a shock.

This woman would not be the last to be surprised. The moment we left she must have wasted no time in informing everyone she knew, and no doubt a few she did not, that Gemma Chevalier was engaged to be married to _Erik Bonheur_ of all people!

An announcement ran in the papers the following day. After that we were besieged with visitors congratulating our engagement. Hyenas, Gemma called them, sniffing around for an invitation to the ceremony.

One non Hyena did come to the watering hole however.

"Erik how could you! I had to read about this in the paper!" Nadir burst in on our visit from Lord and Lady Weatherly, to my supreme delight.

"A thousand apologies friend," I could not help but smile at his indignant manner. "This happened very fast you see. I did not even know I was asking her until I had already done it!" I laughed as I knew this sounded very ridiculous.

"I—" Nadir suddenly noticed the two elegantly dressed aristocrats staring at him as though he had grown a third eye in the middle of his forehead. "I see you have company; I am interrupting."

"No, no," Gemma said quickly, "Lord and Lady Weatherly were just leaving."

"We only just arrived!" Lady Weatherly was quite distraught.

"I am sorry but Nadir is going to be in the wedding so we shall have to speak with him…privately, if you please." Gemma nodded to the door and the scandalized pair of Weatherlys left in a huff.

"I am going to be in the wedding?" Nadir looked at me quickly.

I had not given it a thought until that moment however it seemed perfectly logical, "Well Nadir I was in yours after all; sit, sit." I motioned toward the sofa, beckoning him away from the door. "Would you like a drink?"

"I rather think I need one," Nadir said heavily. His gaze shifted from me to Gemma, "I was under the impression that you did not want to be married." His tone was almost accusing, as though he suspected her of playing some colossal trick on me.

"Erik tricked me into saying yes; I never wanted any of this."

"WHAT! ERIK—"

Gemma laughed, "Nadir it is entirely too easy to bait you; it almost takes the enjoyment out of it…almost."

I handed Nadir a glass of red wine. "Did you hear what happened at the New Year's Eve Ball, at the opera?" I asked him. He might as well hear the entire story.

"No; I was not at the Ball." Nadir said, and I heard a bit of anger in his voice. I believed it had to do with Gemma's teasing.

"I know you were not there, I thought you might have _heard_—"

"Erik not everyone is completely obsessed with the comings and goings of you and _Mademoiselle Chevalier_."

I stared at him. I supposed it was my fault; I should have invited him to the Ball. Still, I was too overjoyed by my engagement to spar with Nadir over this.

"Of course," Was all I said, "Well you see, Count Chevalier must have put something in Gemma's drink; she was hardly conscious. The Count shouted for all to hear that I had given her something, that I had hurt her. He tried to take her away from me."

"We realized then that we could never let that happen. We never want to be separated." Gemma finished the story for me. "When Erik asked, I said yes."

"Have you heard from the Count yet then?" Nadir asked me.

"Not as yet. I expect he will be very…_adamant_, when he does make his opinions known." I felt a grim smirk creep over my face, only half visible behind the mask of course.

"Erik it does not matter what he thinks; I do not need his blessing." Gemma assured me. "I do not even want him to attend the ceremony."

"Speaking of which," Nadir looked from me to Gemma, "When and where will this grand event be taking place?"

"Summer I should think," Gemma answered him. I expected Gemma to field all the questions regarding the wedding. Planning it would be entirely her affair.

"Seven months ought to be time enough to prepare," Gemma continued. "We are having a very large ceremony. Everyone can see us getting married once and for all; then we can be rid of them."

"Erik you approve of this idea?" Nadir looked at me skeptically. "A large ceremony?"

I lifted my shoulders in a shrug of indifference, "A wedding is a wedding is it not? My bride can do whatever she likes, as long as she shows up to the wedding."

Gemma laughed and Nadir stared, "Who are you and what have you done with the real Erik?" He asked me.

"You are not honestly telling me that you miss the old, self deprecating, wrathful hermit that I used to be are you?" I asked in disbelief.

Nadir shook his head, "Not at all. Forgive me friend but I…I truly never believe it would be possible for…for you to…"

I knew he was trying to put it delicately that I had been in such a miserable, disastrous state that rehabilitation had seemed impossible.

"Never mind Nadir," I said quickly, "How are you enjoying your return to the work force?"

"Well, to be honest I have been meaning to talk to the two of you about that." Nadir turned to Gemma, "I am not sure how best to say this but Gemma; all the policemen you know are scarcely better than criminals themselves! They take bribes, they ignore proper procedures, conduct private business on the side…what on earth are you laughing at?"

Gemma was indeed amused. "Of course they do! Nadir, these are the police not the Pope! Though I do not think he is entirely clean either."

"I know they are not saints, as you Catholic's say, but this is almost as bad as being back in Persia!"

I choked a bit on my drink at the mention of Persia. I looked quickly at Nadir and Gemma; they did not appear to have noticed. The last thing I wanted to talk to my new fiancée about was Persia.

"Oh yes, Erik told me you were once a…what was the word? Daroga? In Persia." Gemma spoke with a distinct interest in her voice. "Is there where you met Erik?"

"Yes," Nadir said uncertainly, no doubt wondering what he could say that would not warrant my using a Punjab on him later.

"Was Erik _arrested_?" Gemma probed eagerly.

"Well…in a manner of speaking…" Nadir glanced at me uncertainly.

"I think that is enough sharing for today." I said firmly, hoping to end the conversation.

Gemma raised her eyebrows, "But I have not learned anything!"

"Exactly," I said.

"Erik I am going to be your wife; you are going to have to tell me sometime." Gemma smiled slyly at me.

"Someday," I told her; that was what deathbeds were for.

Having been with Gemma for some time I had become accustomed to the general hub which always surrounded her actions. Of course I had expected that our engagement would cause quite a storm. Still, I was wildly unprepared for what actually happened.

We had not created a storm, we had created Armageddon. A story about the two if us ran in the paper every day after we announced our engagement and I was told that this was not the case in Paris alone. The story of the promiscuous socialite who was settling down with a no name in a mask was wildly popular in every civilized nation.

It did not take long for writers to come to the end of actual facts about me for their stories. This was not a stumbling block; they simply made them up. I was truly the Prince of Monaco, I was a spy for the Turks, I was a refugee from India. Each story was as outrageous as the next, but in honesty I rather enjoyed reading them. I found it most amusing to hear the kind of speculation I was creating.

Georgette was still staying with us. She had no desire to return home after the New Year Ball. I could not tell if she was more disgusted with her father or reluctant to face his wrath after she had helped Gemma, but in any case she had taken the guest room for her own.

Our apartment was full day and night with people congratulating Gemma and I or else Gemma's friends helping her to plan. Gemma had been very sweet; always asking for my opinion on details. However I put an end to it.

"I do not care one way or the other," I had told her honestly, "Do whatever makes you happy and I will be happy to."

Of all the visitors we did receive the only one Gemma and I were really dreading was her father. It was not a matter of fear; certainly we would not be seeking his approval. However I did hate to think how his negativity would ruin our high spirits.

The Count Chevalier did not come though. The Countess did grace us with her presence however, just three days after our engagement. She told us flatly not to be expecting any word from Gemma's father.

"He was beside himself with rage when he first heard the news." The Countess told us on the afternoon of her visit. She was sitting on the sofa next to Georgette. Gemma and I shared a chase lounge.

"I would have expected as much." Gemma said lightly.

"When he clamed down a bit he began to speak of disowning and disinheriting you." Her mother went on.

"Disowned and disinherited? A rough day for me," Gemma continued in her offhand sort of tone.

The Countess fixed her daughter with a reproachful sort of stare. No doubt she wished Gemma would take this news more seriously.

"I convinced him he was being rash however." The Countess said.

"You did not convince him of anything," Gemma said coolly, "He realized he would look wicked in the eyes of the public if he did not support this union that has gotten everyone so excited."

Her mother would not look Gemma in the eyes for a moment.

"May I ask," I interrupted them, "Why exactly the Count has such strong objections to me? I know I am not the most handsome or conventional fellow, but I am not a pauper. I will be able to take care of Gemma quite well."

"I know Erik; that is why I have not tried to stop you from marrying my daughter. I am afraid my husband dislikes you not because of your lack of pedigree or your…appearance; but simply because he did not make the match between Gemma and yourself. He feels as though you did something…underhanded, sly, when you were seeing Gemma and did not tell him."

"How lovely," I said sarcastically, "That should be easy to remedy. I need only to go back in time."

"Erik do not be absurd," Gemma said.

"I know Gemma that was a silly thing for me to say; if I had a way to go back in time I certainly would not waste a trip repairing the relationship between me and your father."

Gemma laughed in true mirth for the first time since her mother had arrived.

"Not exactly what I was implying but I shall over look that; you are very witty darling." She leaned over and kissed my good cheek.

"What I was meaning to say," Gemma went on, "Was that it does not matter to me what Father thinks. If he prefers to be childish and stubborn so be it. I will not allow him to ruin this for me—us I mean." She looked at me quickly and I put my hands up, palms facing out in a gesture of surrender.

"Gemma as far as I am concerned this wedding is all about you—whatever makes you happy."

"How did I ever meet such a sweet man?" Gemma asked me, her gaze locking with mine as she moved her body closer to me. Our foreheads came together.

"How did I ever meet such a beautiful woman?" I asked and Gemma laughed.

"Please no more!" Georgette cried out suddenly from the sofa, "I swear watching the two of you is positively sickening!"

Gemma and I laughed again and drew apart. I supposed that all this talk of weddings had thrown the both of us into a kind of love frenzy that I imagined, as Georgette kindly reminded us every now and then, was indeed quite disgusting.

The next day Gemma left my side for the first time since we had been engaged. As dress making would take a substantial amount of time Gemma had already made an appointment with the premier couturier in Paris.

"I do not like this," I told Gemma as she put on her coat and gloves.

"Erik do not be ridiculous! It is not as though I will be alone! Everyone is coming with me."

"Not everyone; I am not coming."

"Do not look so dejected Erik! How many times must I tell you?" She draped her arms around my neck and pecked my lips with hers, "It is bad luck for you to see me in my dress before the wedding."

"You will not be in your dress today! You are only being fitted!"

"Yes but I want my groom to be completely surprised." I know I had already lost this battle.

"Erik," Gemma softened her voice, "Ford and my Father; they are not going to leap out of the bushes with a net. I will be perfectly safe."

I nodded, "I know darling…I just hate to be away from you."

"I know," Gemma said smiling before she kissed me again.

As my lips touched hers I heard our conversation over again in my head, "You know Gemma, I believe Georgette was right; we are positively sickening sometimes."

Gemma laughed, "You see? Another reason I should go to the dress shop sans fiancé." Gemma winked at me and then she was gone.

I shut the door behind her. I knew I was being foolish; there was no way her Father or Ford could do anything when she was with Lily and Derek Westwood, Ferretti, Daria, Katharine and Von Noten. It was a most reassuring thought that they were all together. I even managed a laugh as I imagined how delighted the men would be at the prospect of spending an entire day in a dress shop.

Once I stopped worrying over Gemma I seated myself at the desk in the sitting room with the idea of continuing on my plans for Rothschild. However I found that I could not keep my mind on the task at hand.

Never in my life had I been this blissfully happy and I could not help but indulge myself with daydreams of things to come. Vacations to the coast, buying our first house together in Paris, holiday celebrations, evening walks under a purple sky, hearing the words; 'Oh! Sorry not to introduce you sooner; this is Erik Bonheur and his wife Gemma.'

I leaned back in my chair at the desk and closed my eyes. Peace at last; joy at last! I had everything I had been dreaming of since I was a lonely child. It seemed so impossible that the dark days were behind me but they were! My heart had never felt so light.

All those years I had wasted being a cynical old crone, scampering around in the dark of the opera cellars. I let go of all the bitterness, all the anger. I no longer felt as though life had slighted me; as though fate owed me something and I was allowed to take it. There would be no more vicious fits from me, no more violence. No stealing, certainly no morphine…no old vices. There would only be happiness from this day forward.

A knock came at the door and jilted me out of my dreamy reverie.

I muttered to myself about intruders; I did not believe this was anger so I was not breaking my vow to myself to let go of rage.

I pulled the door open, "Gemma is not in so if…." But my voice dyed in my throat.

"I am not looking for _Gemma_."

I felt as though someone had speared my in the stomach. She looked very different from when I had seen her last; she was older now. However her eyes retained that malicious glint; it was as though pure evil was staring back at me.

Looking to either side of her, I knew I could not get away, even if I were to try. My life, which moments before had been so bright, was over. I knew I would never see Gemma again.


	41. All God's Angels come in Disguise

_All God's angels come to us disguised. James Russell Lowell_

Had I been putting on weight or were these damn dresses getting even smaller? I took a deep breath as the tailor tried a corset on me; taking measurements for the custom dress he would make.

We had argued over the design for the better part of an hour. Normally I was not this difficult, at least not with dress makers, but this was my wedding. This was the dress to end all dresses, the Holy Grail of white lace and chiffon. Anything less than perfect was unacceptable.

I smiled as I pictured the look on Erik's face when he saw me walking toward him in this dress.

My mind drifted from away to my fiancé waiting for me in our apartment.

Erik, my darling Erik…Oh, I knew he was hideous to look upon; that was certain. I knew he was because I saw the look on other people's faces when they set eyes on Erik's deformity.

Yet I had never seen him this way. The first time I had glimpsed him without his mask, that morning in his piano room, a sunbeam across his peaceful sleeping face…I had been shocked. Shocked, but not appalled. That idea that I was not appalled appalled me.

However in time I realized how very lucky I was. When I looked at Erik, I saw only a beautiful soul. A bit ragged on some of the edges, warn in places and tarnished in others, but beautiful none the less. I had the privilege of knowing a man intimately whom all the world had been keeping at arms length.

Discovering Erik was like uncovering another world. An enchanted place filled with music, magic, and of course vicious wit. I was able to unlock the secrets of the man, to know his mind.

I had been very sure of myself for a long time; I believed I was capable of anything. After I met Erik I knew that was not true. I was not capable of resisting him. He drew me in; I did not want to get away.

Never would I forget first seeing him in the summer at Deauville. My sister's letters had prepared me for a man who was old, exocentric, strange. There was nothing unappealing about the dark, tall, imposing figure Erik had cut against the clear blue sky the day I met him however.

In that first moment when I had seen him I knew there was a power in him stronger than the very ocean we were looking out on.

I loved him. I knew no one really believed that; I knew even my close friends were thinking that I was marrying Erik to spite my Father or Thomas Ford.

But I was not. I wanted nothing more than to tie myself to Erik Bonheur forever. I loved his ways; his grumpy moods, his dry sarcasm, his wit, his talent; the man was a genius after all. I knew he was the man to make me happy for the rest of my life.

"Mademoiselle you are finished." The sound of the tailor's voice drew me out of my daydreams.

"Thank you," I said, stepping off the raised circular stand. I left the dress shop for the café down the street where everyone was waiting for me. I knew Erik worried; he would not have let me come alone. In all honesty I did not mind the escort; I did not want to risk a repeat of the New Years Ball.

However they could not be expected to stay in the dress shop all day simply watching me. I did not think I would be taking any great chance if they simply waited down the street.

Of course nothing happened; I returned to my apartment in perfect safety. I thought to tell the doorman that any visitors trying to see Erik and I should be turned away but it appeared that the man had gone. No doubt having a quick drink at the pub on the corner. As it was pointless to wait in the lobby for his return I simply climbed the stairs to our apartment.

There was an odd feeling in my stomach. It had begun the moment I left the dress shop and it had persisted, nay grown stronger, with every step I had taken. Something felt…off. The moment I opened the door I knew what my heart had been fearing.

It had been too much to ask hadn't it? That Erik and I could have a peaceful, easy relationship?

The apartment was in shambles. Chairs were overturned, sheets of paper thrown about, drawers opened…a red stain on the floor.

I felt my heart stop. I was not a stranger to fainting; it had not been too many days past since I had lost consciousness at the Ball. I knew the state one was in just before everything went dark.

For a moment it seemed that I hovered between unconsciousness and waking life; between one choice and the other.

Then I was breathing hard, clutching the back of the sofa; the only piece of furniture not overturned. My eyes blinked rapidly as the scene before me swam back into focus.

"Erik!" I screamed hopefully, "ERIK!" No answer came to me. Frantically I ran from room to room; he was not there.

Erik was gone, I knew not where. The red on the floor; I could not take my eyes away from it. The odd crimson blotch on the Persian rug; a grotesque, frightening shape. For one wild moment it seemed as though the stain had turned into a face; an evil face laughing at me…the Persian rug…

I shook my head violently. This was no time to go to pieces!

"Damn it Gemma! No one has ever taken anything away from you and now is no time to let someone start!" I said aloud to myself. It was not exactly a good way to promote sanity; talking to oneself, however I did gain a bit of resolve from forcing my voice to be steady.

"What do I know?" I asked myself.

Erik was gone. Clearly there had been a struggle. The doorman was gone as well; dead, paid off; I did not care either way.

I took a deep breath and reaching down whipped my finger across the red mark. I looked at the tip; nothing. It had dried; Erik had been gone for hours.

The drawer of the desk caught my eye. Had Erik pulled this open? I looked inside. A gun lay there. Lord, I had forgotten! It was mine; I wonder if Erik had discovered it weeks ago and never told me; not wanting to mention something so dark.

I kept it for protection; little good it had done Erik. I checked to make sure; no, it had not been fired recently.

My eyes were inadvertently drawn back to the red smear on the rug. It no longer looked like a face to me but still I could not break my gaze from it.

As minds are trained to think in patterns my brain traveled down the logical chain of thought; I would need a new Persian rug…a _Persian_ rug!

Erik, Persia; he never wanted to talk about it. He had met Nadir there; Nadir had been a police man. Had Erik been arrested? In a manner of speaking…

I raced to our bedroom and grabbed a shirt and a pair of Erik's pants. They did not fit of course but it would be easier to run this way. Hurriedly I filled two purses with francs. Without waiting another second I left the apartment. I did not bother with a carriage; I knew in my current state I could move faster.

I took the gun as well.

I left with no coat and began bounding down the street. Erik had told me where Nadir and Victoria lived; thank God I remembered.

My body felt chilled to the bone within seconds. However at the same time heat was searing painfully through my legs and my lungs. This was how people became seriously ill, I told myself as I knocked a man out of the way. He called out to me but I did not stop. I would not stop; doomsday itself would not prevent me from reaching the apartment of Nadir Khan.

When the building came into view I ran faster. I nearly slipped on a patch of ice but forward momentum seemed to be carrying me so strongly that I was almost flying. I tore the door of his building open and ran up two flights of stairs.

My heart beat painfully fast as my hand reached the doorknob of Nadir's apartment. What if it was locked? I turned; it opened.

It was bursting in that saved us. He was not expecting me.

I took in the strange sight in seconds; a huge, hulking man with ebony skin had cornered Nadir and Victoria. I saw a large knife in his hand. The rest of the apartment had been torn up just like mine.

The looks on Nadir and Victoria's were enough to convince me of what I had to do.

In one swift motion the gun came up, which was well because the man's shock was wearing off and he was coming toward me. I shot him once in the head; he fell to the ground with a deafening thud. I had learned to shoot at a young age; for years I had practiced, especially after I had shoved Lily's fiancé off the pier. In the last year I had stopped but that did not mean I did not remember how the thing was done.

"Gemma! What on earth—?" Nadir did not know how to react.

"Erik is gone," I delivered the message I had run nearly a mile for.

Nadir was pale, "Gone?" He repeated, suddenly his face was livid, "I knew something like this would happen! You and your damn newspapers! Always have to be the center of attention don't you? Cannot ever live quietly can you? I knew someone would see! I knew you would be the death of Erik one way or the other!"

I glared at him, "What in hell do you mean? Who has seen Erik in the paper? Were have they taken him? Who did I just kill to SAVE you?"

Nadir shook his head, "An eunuch of Persia! She must have him; she was furious when he escaped last time. She swore she would find him."

"WHO you dolt, WHO?" I screamed in frustration.

"The Sultana of Persia! The khanum, the mother of the Prince!"

"What is—oh my God!" One of Nadir's neighbors had been attracted by the noise. He stepped inside and saw the body on the floor.

"Fetch the police," I told him absentmindedly.

"I am the police," Nadir interjected pointedly.

"But you are coming with me; we need to find Erik." I said sharply.

Nadir's face was very grim indeed, "We cannot find him Gemma. She is too smart for that. She will have gone by now. Erik is as good as dead."

I felt a heated anger rising inside of me the likes of which I had never known, "You rotten coward! I thought Erik was supposed to be your friend! After all that he has done for you—"

"Done for me?" Nadir cried, "Did he ever tell you that I spent five years in prison because of him? That when he was under my supervision in Persia he was a constant source of aggravation? That I could have been killed due to his antics!"

"You had forgiven him enough to let him help you with money!" I shot back.

"I—I," Nadir seemed to be remembering something else. He let out a sigh, his face relaxing from his fit of anger. "Gemma I am sorry, but I am sure that Erik is gone."

"Nadir I cannot give up that easily," I told him plainly. "I am going to find Erik with or without you. I will search for years if I have must. I could use your help though Nadir; Erik could use your help."

Nadir nodded and turned to Victoria, "I have to go."

"But…but Nadir! I cannot stay here alone!" Victoria looked petrified.

"You can stay with Lily and Derek Westwood," I said quickly. "Come; we will put you in a carriage."

Our minds made up we left the apartment before the police came to deal with the matter of the dead body on the floor. Nadir's neighbor had run off without our even noticing and must have alerted someone by now. We did not have time to answer questions. Once Victoria was off in her carriage I turned to Nadir.

"So who is this Sultana?"

"As I said, she is the mother of the ruling Prince of Persia," Nadir said darkly. "She sent for Erik years ago; heard of his talent as a magician. She delighted in…_morbid_ acts; torture was her favorite form of entertainment. I doubt that has changed."

I knew what he was implying. She would show no mercy to Erik.

"What does she want with Erik?" I asked.

"Erik tangled himself in the politics of the regime," Nadir recounted. "He was ordered to be arrested and taken to the Sultana for execution. I could not let that happen however; when I found him I told him to run, that I would report he had gone before I arrived to arrest him."

"Where would she have taken him?" I asked, vaguely realizing that we were walking very purposefully in a random direction.

"Back to Persia I suppose."

"But they could not have gotten _that_ far already! On top of that, Erik has not been in Persia for years," Nadir nodded in the affirmative. "But she found him here in Paris. I do not flatter myself so much as to believe that tales of Gemma Chevalier have traveled across the Mediterranean to Persia. She must have been staying somewhere in Europe."

"Clever," Nadir complemented me. "But bear in mind that I am the detective here."

"Fine," I growled. "What does your superior detective mind suggest?"

"That you are probably correct in surmising that she has been staying in Europe somewhere."

"My God Nadir! What is the point in having a detective help me if you are just going to repeat what I say!" I could have slapped him. Every moment we wasted took away from the chance of finding Erik alive.

"What I mean Gemma is that we have no way of knowing where in Europe she is, or why she was in Europe to begin with. I know she despised Erik for wriggling out from under her grasp but I do not believe she would have left Persia simply to track him down." Nadir spoke evenly, ignoring my anger.

It was simple for him; Victoria was safe with Lily and Derek Westwood while my love was slowly being tortured to death.

With great difficulty I pushed the image of Erik in some awful room filled with sharp knives out of my head. I could not think properly with Erik's screams in my mind.

"Right…yes …come with me." I said, turning on my heel and heading in the opposite direction.

"Where do you think we are going?" Nadir asked.

"To see William Knox D'Arcy. He does a great deal of business in that part of the world. He may know something." I jumped out in front of a carriage to make it stop. I threw open the door, yelling at the driver to take us to D'Arcy.

"What do you hope to learn from him?" Nadir asked me.

"Perhaps why this…what did you call her? Sultana? Why she left her beloved home."

William Knox D'Arcy was the kind of man my Father would have liked me to marry. His father, Richard William D'Arcy, had made a fortune trading with the Americas. William was a young man still but very ambitious. He had taken a note from his father and begun trading ventures in India. I was aware that interests in China and India were growing; large parts of both countries were under foreign control. William was always looking for new ventures. If anyone knew about Persia it would be him.

The home of D'Arcy was very large and very beautiful, not unlike my own family's mansion. When I arrived I was greeted warmly even though I was aware that I had interrupted dinner.

"Gemma Chevalier! What a pleasant surprise! You know, we have been meaning to visit; offer our congratulations on the engagement!"

The senior D'Arcy boomed at me as I he entered the sitting room where the butler had taken Nadir and me. Richard D'Arcy had known my family ever since he had made his fortune. I rather liked him; he was an entertaining and sweet fellow. However, at his mention of the engagement I felt my stomach contract. Once again I could hear Erik's screams in my head. I forced them to be quite.

"I need to speak with your son; I need his help. In fact, perhaps you should stay as well. You may know something." I managed to keep my voice from shaking but I knew there was a dark urgency in it I could not mask.

Richard D'Arcy stared at me for a moment, no doubt taking in my strange attire, and then, "Henry, go and fetch William if you please." The butler left to find young William.

"Is something the matter Gemma? I think this is the first time I have seen you without a smile on your face." Richard asked, his brow knotted.

"Yes, something is wrong I am afraid."

"How may I be of service?" William D'Arcy waltzed into the room. He was my age; rather handsome with dark hair that fell casually into his eyes.

"I need information; Persia, what do you know?" I wasted no time.

Willaim D'Arcy sat down across from me in a chair. He put his elbows on his knees and tented his hands.

"I know a thing or two about the region. Tell you what, I shall relate to you everything I know but you must give me something in return."

"William! A lady has come to you for help! That is no way to—" His Father began.

"Whatever you like, it is yours." I said quickly.

William sat back and smiled, "Excellent! All I ask is that you put in a good word for me with your sister Georgette. I have asked her to dinner twice now and she always turns me down. I cannot understand why—"

"Yes yes William, I shall highly recommend you." I interrupted him. "Now, tell me about Persia."

"Well I would tell you to invest. The country has a lot of potential; oil I believe. Now that they have their political problem sorted out, for the most part anyway—"

"What political problem?" I asked quickly.

"Well, the country has been relatively stable for some time now, but…are you familiar with the hierarchy there?"

"Yes," Nadir and I said together, though him with more confidence than I.

"Well, the Prince, I forget his name. Anyway, from what I hear he took the thrown at a very young age and was only a puppet for his mother."

"The Sultana?" I asked.

"Correct. Of course, the Prince did not stay a child forever. He has grown up now; seen the writing on the wall so to speak. His mother was wildly unpopular in the government and with the people. From what I gathered, I have been looking into the country myself; she was a bit…_eccentric_ in her tastes. She created a lot of problems for Persia. The Prince realized that he could turn a profit by trading with European countries, but with the Sultana creating such unrest Persia was not ideal for investment."

"So what did the Prince do?" I asked.

"Got rid of the old witch," William said simply, shrugging his shoulders. "Exiled her to someplace or the other."

I looked at Nadir. We had something substantial to go on now.

"Does that help?" William asked me.

"Yes. I shall be sure to tell Georgette what a wonderful man you are." I said, rising, "I am afraid we must be off."

Without another word Nadir and I left. The day was drawing to a close; it would be dark soon.

"Well I must say that was quite shocking," Nadir said once we were out the door. "I never thought the Prince would have the nerve to oust his mother."

"So she come to Europe, she heard rumors about a masked man, and followed them here to Paris." I recounted what we knew.

"That still does not tell us where she could be now."

"But we do know that if she was exiled she does not have unlimited resources."

"I do not think she would take that in to account." Nadir said honestly.

"She came here to Paris. She did not announce herself and she did not stay in any hotel of prominence."

"How could you possibly know that?" Nadir asked me.

"I would know if the Sultana of Persia had come to any foremost section of Paris. My Mother is the Queen of Gossip remember." I told him.

"What if she did not announce herself? She could have simply claimed to be a traveler from Persia." Nadir played devil's advocate ever so well.

I shook my head, "Dignitaries always give themselves away; too much pride. That man I shot in your apartment; no doubt she was traveling with more of them. That would have caused a stir I can tell you. Trust me, if any rich Persian had come to Paris I would know."

"So what are you suggesting?"

"Perhaps she thought to stay in a part of Paris she did not believe I had my eye on; somewhere a socialite like myself would not think to look."

"Where do you mean?"

"Among criminals dear Nadir," I said with a grim smile, "Among criminals."

That said we headed off for a part of Paris no one ever expected to see me in.

We walked; a carriage in this neighborhood would look suspicious. Slowly the streets grew more crooked and narrow. The stench of filth became more prominent and elegant homes were replaced with crumbling hovels and half lit pubs.

I had a great deal invested in the people of this area. I paid them well for favors, information, business; no one knew of course but I had a rather shady shipping line working very well for me. It was entirely run by smugglers and others of questionable character. It was a risky game to play but with all of my contacts in the police it was unlikely that I would be caught. The profit was well worth the gamble in any case. I had planned on telling Erik after we were married.

It was the underground saloon of _Riddle and Max _that I was searching for. Riddle owned the hovel; no one knew who Max had been. The pub was marked by a wooden sign post painted with a faded picture of a tall ship. It was hard to spot in the ever deepening twilight but I had been there before.

A set of stairs headed down from the main road and I turned to begin the decent.

"Gemma…are you…are you sure this is the place you want to go?" Nadir asked me uncertainly.

"No; I just picked this at random. Since my fiancé is slowly dying somewhere I thought I would waste some time and drink a little." I barked angrily.

I heard Nadir mutter something, "Just like Erik." I smiled involuntarily.

The steps took us to a moldy, warped plank door. Nadir made to turn the knob but I caught his hand and shook my head.

I knocked on the door. A few moments later a slit in the middle of the door opened just enough to show me a pair of eyes looking out.

"Jackie Sullivan," I said.

The slit shut and Nadir stared at me, but then the door opened. A cloud of smoke billowed out and surrounded us. I stepped inside and Nadir followed uncertainly.

"Gemma! Long time since we had you in here." A man, Riddle himself, was talking to me.

"How have you been?" I asked.

"Same as ever. Had the police in here the other night; Christian took care of it though."

"Christian Abberley?" Nadir said suddenly, "I work with him now!"

Riddle turned to Nadir for the first time and looked him up and down. "He mentioned you. Hopes you are not going to be a problem."

Nadir must have seen the distrustful gleam in Riddle's eyes because he was not fool enough to say anything else.

"Is Quint here?" I asked.

"Of course he is! He has been here every night since 1852! His usual place." Riddle did not have to say anything else.

I knew him only as Quint; everyone knew him by that name alone. Perhaps he did not like any other form of address or perhaps, like Erik, he had never known another name.

The police knew him as Ghost Thief. Countless jobs and he had never left any kind of trail. He was not only a thief though; he had his hand in most underhanded dealing in Paris. That said he was a good man. He was much more intelligent than the average criminal. He had been well educated at some point. No doubt he realized that a life of crime would be more profitable than trying to claw his way up the social ladder of France. To my knowledge he had never killed an innocent person. Of course, I did not know everything, not like Quint. He was a wealth of information concerning the dark side of Paris.

"Gemma!" He looked up at me brightly from his large mug.

"Quint," I nodded at him, sitting down at his table in the corner. He always sat with his back to the wall, just in case. "This is Nadir Khan; a good friend of mine."

Quint's eyes flicked to Nadir; they showed the same kind of instinctual distrust Riddle's had. It was a natural reaction for these men.

"I need to know something," I said.

"Always business Gemma," Quint winked at me. "Do not care for a drink first?"

Impatiently I grabbed the mug from his hand and downed the rest of its contents. It was disgusting but I did think I could do with a bit of alcohol.

Quint laughed, "Always a bold one Gemma. That is why I like you." Now that he was entertained he was willing to talk, "What do you need to know?"

"Has anyone strange come to Paris recently?" I asked.

"You might want to re phrase that." Quint laughed at me.

"Of course; this would be a woman. Persian; travels with these big, dark skinned men."

Quint considered for a moment.

"I do not know about a woman, but I know I have seen these men before. Two of them; stood out like beacons in a foggy sea. I fist spotted them a month ago; they did not speak French. They were trying to buy some bread or something. I picked the bigger one's pocket. Foreign coin; unmistakable."

"Do you know where they have been staying?" I asked quickly.

"Now that I think about it, the time they showed up was around the same time as some people started disappearing." Quint appeared to have ignored my question.

"Disappearing?" Nadir prompted.

Quint fixed him with a cool stare; as though he were trying to read Nadir though his eyes.

"Oh yes, they disappear," Quint said slowly, a grim smirk on his face, "Then they turn up weeks later. First it was just broken necks, then it was…broken arms, missing legs, missing stomachs—"

Nadir wrenched beside me and I had to do a great deal not to become sick myself.

"Quint _do you know where these people are_?" I demanded this time.

"I believe I do," He stared at me, "You are not thinking of going there are you?"

I glared at him, "No! I came all the way down here in the freezing cold at night to find out where these people were for no reason at all!"

"Keep your head on Gemma I was only asking." Quint put his hands up, "Why would you want to go there?"

"They took something that belongs to me." I said coldly. I was forming a plan in my mind and I knew that if it was to work, I had to steel myself against all emotion except icy and fearless nerve. I might as well begin now.

Quint seemed to have noticed the sudden change in me. "I cannot ever remember seeing you this angry Gemma."

"I never have been," I said in the same cool tone.

"Be careful will you? You are too important to lose." He warned me.

I laughed mirthlessly. "Do not worry; you will not lose your business from me."

Quint shook his head, "Give us a bit more credit. We humble thieves like you Gemma. Having a high class woman like you on our side makes it seem like the score is a bit more equal. And that man you are engaged to? He is just a regular man is he not? No Count or Lord, no background at all." Quint laughed, "Gives average men everywhere some hope."

"They took him," I said shortly, testing myself, seeing if I could hold back tears. "These people, they took my fiancé."

"Lord," Quint sighed, "Well…these outsiders, they are a damn nuisance to all of us. I am sure I could stir up a crowd. We could help you get him back."

I shook my head, "If they see a mob heading toward them they might run. If they feel threatened they might kill him."

Quint nodded, "So what is your plan?"

"It is a good one." I said cryptically.

"Will it work?" He asked me.

I smiled wickedly, "I shall tell you tomorrow."

Quint nodded again, "They appear to have taken a house over on Bowery Street; the gray one in the middle. The windows are all boarded up; you cannot miss it."

"A million thanks Quint. I am afraid I will have to pay you later; I cannot spare a franc at the moment." I told him.

Quint shook his head, "This one is complimentary. Consider it my wedding gift."


	42. A Life for a Friend

**Greater Love hath no Man than this, that he Lay Down his Life for a Friend**

_**From the mind of Nadir Khan**_**…**

I never liked Gemma. I never found it in me to trust her. Perhaps I was rotten, cynical for thinking so, but I did not believe that a woman like Gemma could love a man like Erik. It was not that I thought Erik undeserving of love, quite the contrary. The poor man had been through so much; he deserved peace, something Gemma could not give him.

Gemma was so young, so _spoiled_. How could she even comprehend a man as complex as Erik? More than once I wondered if Gemma thought of Erik as a kind of exotic pet; a tiger cub. What would happen when the cub grew to adult hood and she realized she did not have the power to care for it any longer? The thought of Erik being given back to the wild did not sit well with me.

I wished he could find a woman like my Victoria; a kind, gentle woman with little complications of her own. Instead he had Gemma; a girl who was even more dramatic than Christine had been. I knew Gemma treated Erik better than Christine, but I could not believe that Gemma was good for Erik. She would drain him of his energy before his time.

Even now as I listened to the exchange between her and Quint I wondered what was driving her. Was she so heartbroken by the loss of Erik that she needed to either find him or parish? Or was she angry; infuriated that someone had taken something that belonged to _Gemma Chevalier_?

But the Sultana would not care that Gemma was the Princess of Paris…

I watched Gemma stand stoically from the corner table and march out the door of _Riddle and Max_. I wondered if I should let her do this. She had no idea what the Sultana was like; this little socialite could not comprehend the wickedness she was about to face.

Gemma was going to walk into this house on Bowery Street and demand what she wanted. She struck me as a woman who always got her wish. Gemma Chevalier did not understand that the Sultana was not some Countess clamoring for her favor.

I considered telling Gemma that poor Erik was gone, dead, or mortally wounded. The Sultana delighted in relieving people of their hands; Erik would not want to live after that. However cool determination was etched deeply into her face and I knew it would be pointless. Erik and the woman he loved for better or worse would die at the hands of the Sultana tonight.

For I harbored no false hope; there was no way for Gemma to triumph. She would make one last bid for Erik's life and be swallowed by the snake herself.

More than once I thought of turning, of going back to Victoria. My lovely Victoria; my darling wife; I was the luckiest man in the world for marrying her. Not only that, she suspected she was pregnant.

Yet I knew that as much as I desired to return to my wife, to be with my new family, I could not leave Gemma to do this alone. I owed Erik more than that. I knew that he would come back and haunt me if I left his fiancée to face down the Sultana by herself. Erik had been a bad enough ghost alive; I would hate to experience his specter once he was dead.

"Here it is." Gemma spoke; she had stopped in front of a gray house with ominously covered windows.

"We are here already?" I said in disbelief. This was it; this would be the end, for all three of us.

"Nadir," Gemma turned to me, "You do not have to come with me."

"I know."

Gemma nodded, "I have a plan."

"Are you going to tell me what it is?"

"I wish I could but I have not worked it out yet."

"Well then it is hardly a plan is it?" I snapped.

A sly smile came over Gemma's face. Her eyes seemed to be twinkling with mischief; how could she be so calm at a time like this? Did she care about Erik at all or was this merely a game to her?

"Try and relax Nadir," She said smoothly. "Follow my lead and everything will be fine."

She spoke with such confidence, such certainty, I almost believed her.

Gemma walked up to the door of the old house with the same kind of strut usually reserved for grand balls and shows. She rapped on the door loudly.

"Anyone home!" Gemma called out almost brightly. "We have come for tea!"

"Have you lost your _mind_?" I growled at her under my breath as I heard someone inside coming toward the door.

"Oh _unclench_ Nadir," She said lightly, "Good! Someone is here!"

The door opened to reveal another eunuch. I wondered how many of them she had with her. The man spoke in Farsi.

"What did he say?" Gemma asked me with mild interest.

I took a deep breath; this was it.

"He said we are expected; he wants us to follow him."

We did as we were told. We crossed the threshold; the door closed ominously behind us. We were led down a narrow hall. The eunuch opened a door on one side and beckoned us through.

I realized one second too late that we had been tricked. The door slammed behind us and I found myself in a situation I had dreaded since this damn thing had been invented.

Erik's torture machine; no doubt it was the one thing the Sultana had demanded when she left Persia. It had been rebuilt to perfection; the many mirrors creating the gruesome illusion which had led to the death of so many. The lights came on in full and I knew that soon heat would be rising from the ground. Erik's chamber would claim the lives of those he loved best. I very much doubted that the Sultana would have installed the escape hatch.

"What is this Nadir?" Gemma asked me in a bemused tone, as though we were looking at some strange artwork in a museum.

"Erik built this for the Sultana in Persia. It is a torture chamber." I saw no point in lying to her. "Soon you will believe this forest is real; the heat will become unbearable. I have seen it before; we will…hang ourselves…from that tree." I pointed.

"What do you mean you have seen it?" Gemma asked, ignoring the fact that we would be committing suicide in a matter of hours.

"The mirrors; you can see in through them."

"Is she watching then? The Sultana?"

"Yes," A voice that belonged to the neither of the chambers prisoners responded. She spoke French now, for Gemma's benefit I believed. I shuttered; that one word carried so much cruel power.

"I would not miss watching the great Gemma Chevalier take her own life," the voice was soft but unmistakably malicious. "And Nadir Kahn, dead at last. My other toy will keep; I will watch you."

I closed my eyes as I tried to accept my fate. I would never see my wife, my child, the light of day, ever again. Nor would Gemma or Erik. Erik…at least while the Sultana watched us he would be free from her torture. He would gain an hour or so reprieve from our deaths…but nothing more.

It crossed my mind that I should just get it over with; not give the Sultana the pleasure of watching me suffer.

Whatever Gemma was thinking she did not tell me. She sat on the sand covered floor for some time; an hour at least. She did not move, she hardly blinked, and the look on her face was unreadable.

Soon I was starting to feel the onset of madness. I kept telling myself that it was only an illusion; that I had to carry on for Erik's sake. Though we did not hear her voice again I knew the Sultana was watching; I could feel her eyes on us.

Suddenly Gemma shot up from the floor.

"OH NADIR!" She screamed, throwing her arms around me and crying, "This is awful! I have failed Erik! Oh my poor Erik!" She pushed me away from her and ran madly around the room for a moment.

"I do not deserve to live!" She screamed. I had no idea what had gotten in to her; I supposed the illusion had taken affect. This room was meant to bring on madness; it had done its job.

Gemma clutched at her hair, "I hate myself! My heart is broken! I would give anything to see Erik one more time!"

I wondered what had happened to the cool, calm woman who had strutted into this house.

"Gemma relax," I tried to hush her. "You will see Erik again. I am sure you will be reunited in…in the beyond."

Gemma sank to her knees, burying her face in her hands and sobbing.

"Do…do you want to get this…over with?" I asked tragically. I had never felt so wretched; I cursed fate for putting us though this. "It will be like…like falling asleep," I said with great difficulty. "You will be able to see Erik soon."

The cruel reality was that Erik would probably die this very night, and we were not going to be set free. We would have to do it eventually. If Gemma could not take it any longer she need not stay. I would hold out another hour or so; give Erik a bit more time. Then we could all be together…

"Yes," Gemma said shakily. "Yes I think it is time."

Suddenly Gemma was on her feet. One swift calm motion and then the night was broken. Glass shattered and fell away, revealing a hole; an exit…

Gemma stood, as cool as you please, her hand steadily holding the gun she had used on the eunuch earlier. Her face had relaxed again into that grimly amused stare.

She walked, no, strutted, to the opening in the glass walls. She violently struck her gun against the broken shards, widening the gap she had created. That finished, she stepped out into the room beyond. I followed, stunned.

"Very…clever," The same cruel voice we had heard before greeted us. Now however the voice had a face. She looked older than I remembered her, but still just as menacing, as evil. She sat on a shabby dais, a poor replica of the one she had in Persia. Apparently all effort had gone into reconstructing the chamber Gemma had just broken.

"I do hope you enjoyed my little…_performance_." Gemma said coolly, smirking.

"It was very entertaining thank you." The Sultana replied. "Very idiotic as well. Nadir you should have known better." I did not at all like the look in her eyes as they landed on me.

"Yes how silly of us, to escape death," Gemma said smoothly. She was staring back at the Sultana with a kind of fearlessness I had never known anyone to have while facing her…except Erik.

"I gather that you do not take my meaning. I was giving you a chance you see, at a painless death. Now you shall not be so fortunate. I have amassed a great deal of methods over the years of causing death. It will be my pleasure to perform them on you, just as I have on you _darling Erik_." She spoke in a silky but clearly wicked tone.

"Well yes, one does not reach your age without knowing a thing or two," Gemma shot back, still smirking in the face of death herself.

The Sultana's eyes narrowed, "What are you implying?"

"I see _you_ do not gather _my_ meaning. You are old, Sultana, that was what I meant. Why, you could be my grandmother!"

"I do not appreciate flippancy!" The Sultana bellowed at Gemma.

"Temper temper; remember at your age such excited states can be dangerous." Gemma said without missing a beat.

"Seize her!" The Sultana cried out in Farsi. The two eunuchs flanking her came toward Gemma and she raised the gun. The men stopped.

"You heard me! Take her!" She cried angrily.

Gemma sighed as though this was rather vexing her. "I have already shot one of your men; do you really care to lost two more?"

The Sultana glared at her, "Whatever you do; it will not bring Erik back. I have killed him."

"I do not think so," Gemma said, not even a flicker of doubt crossed her face. "You have tracked him all across Europe; you have waiting years for this. I do not believe for one moment that you have spoiled your fun by ending his life so quickly."

"You sound as though you understand," The Sultana stared at her, "Erik has been my quarry for some time…you cannot expect I will give him over to you; or let you leave this place alive." She added this last bit with grim satisfaction.

"Oh but I do think you will give him to me," Gemma said calmly, as though she were arguing with someone over the last apple at a fruit stand.

"Allow me to explain," Gemma went on lightly, "Erik belongs to me. He is mine; my property…part of my public image."

"And why would that matter to me? You seem to be forgetting; you are all as good as dead." The Sultana had taken out a sharp knife and was running her fingers over the blade.

"You are delightful to talk to you know," Gemma said sarcastically, "As I was saying; Erik is my property. Should you destroy something of mine…how shall I put this delicately? I would not be please, to say the least."

The Sultana sat back and stared at Gemma, "You know, you are a smart girl; much more so than I gave you credit for. You come in here, put on this act; pretend you do not care about the fate of that _freak_ Erik…but I see through you. I know you love him; I know you would do anything to get him back."

I stared at Gemma; the Sultana was calling her bluff. However as Gemma had shown me before, she would not be manipulated.

She laughed hysterically, "Love! Love?" She shook her head and whipped her eyes. "Sultana I would have thought you of all people would know; there is no love! Marriage is nothing more than business. I chose Erik; he has some talent and he will do anything I tell him. I want him back Sultana, because he is mine."

Gemma's face darkened suddenly and I saw a kind of malice light in her oddly colored eyes. She took a step closer to the Sultana.

"I might remind you that you are not in Persia any longer. This is Paris; this is my kingdom. If you refuse to give me Erik, if you kill him, I will escape. I am a damn good shot and these eunuchs of yours make excellent targets. Once I get out that door…that will be the end for you Sultana. Do you think you can make one move in this neighborhood without my say so? Do you think you can leave Paris if I tell conductors and carriage drivers not to take you? How much money do you have to bribe…to pay your own servants," Gemma looked at the hulking eunuchs.

"I expect your funds are diminishing. Soon you will have nothing," Gemma went on. "This house…do you really believe that it is above my power to burn it to the ground? Once it is gone…where will you live? I can find you wherever you go and I will, mark that. How hard do you think it will be for me to lure your servants away from you? Have you been loyal, kind to them…done anything for them worth more than money?"

She pulled out a little bag filled with coins and threw it on the floor, scattering them everywhere. I saw bits of gold and gems there on the floor as well. I wondered if she knew how easy it was to bribe these men.

"What will you do when your men have gone?" Gemma's voice was now a haunting whisper. I had thought that only the Sultana had the power to do this but a shiver ran up and down my spine.

Something truly extraordinary was happening in that room. Two steel wills were clashing. The Sultana seemed to have the upper hand; she had us in her house, she had Erik…she could have had the eunuchs overpower us. Gemma did not have an endless supply of bullets in her gun.

Still, Gemma was keeping her at bay with sheer nerve. There was something frightening about her as well. The way those mismatched eyes, one clear blue, one deep green, had turned so completely cold…it was haunting. I knew that when she spoke she was perfectly serious. From what I knew, Gemma did have the power to control anything that passed in Paris. It seemed the Sultana knew this.

"Where will you go when no hotel in Paris will have you and every house you enter is destroyed?" Gemma's perfect lips curved into a wicked smile. "You will live on the street. You will be completely alone…shunned by everyone you meet. No power will be left in you…and just when you believe you have sunk to the very bottom of human existence…that is when I will come to you and when I do." Gemma paused and let out a low laugh, "You are not the only one who knows about death."

The Sultana was looking strange…was that fear in her eyes? Then suddenly it was gone.

"Very well done girl; very convincing. Were I a lesser woman I might believe you, but I know you girl." The Sultana showed nothing of fear now. She was not responding to Gemma's threats.

"Would you like to know what I have done to Erik?" I braced myself as the Sultana spoke these words. "I have always taken an _interest_ in the man…you must know; he is so very ugly he is almost _alluring_. I told him that if he pleased me I would be merciful. He did try, valiantly, but I imagine his inexperience limited him. Well, if he was not going to use his manhood properly, there was no point in him keeping it."

My stomach turned over and I felt my body shaking. Why had I not mentioned to Gemma that the Sultana had lusted after Erik when he had been in Persia! Then she might have seen this coming, but the poor girl was blindsided! Her power only lasted as long as she did not show any love for Erik, and how could she stay stoic after hearing something like this!

"I have another deal to propose for you girl," The Sultana went on, "You will help me to become rich and powerful in Paris and I will let you leave here alive."

Gemma's eyes flashed but her voice remained amazingly calm, "You must be hideous to look at if Erik could not get aroused. He can hardly keep clothed when I am around him…but then I am much younger, much more beautiful than you are."

The Sultana looked ready to kill. I knew she wanted to hurt Gemma as badly as she possibly could. She knew how to do it as well; the Sultana knew how to bring Gemma to her knees.

"Fetch the prisoner!" She shrieked in Farsi to one of her guards. "I want you to see him." She told Gemma.

We waited in a heavy silence. Soon I heard footsteps along with the constant scraping sound; something being dragged.

The eunuch entered, carrying the remains of a man with him. I looked sidelong at Gemma. Unbelievably, her expression was blank.

I quickly noticed that Erik was still in possession of all his extremities. The Sultana must have been saving the best for last. However the fact that Erik still had his hands and legs was not terribly comforting.

He was thrown to the floor unceremoniously. His face was swollen almost beyond recognition from beatings. The mask was gone of course, and it looked as though she had cut his good cheek as well as ripping further into his deformity.

His clothes were torn so I could see the wreckage underneath. Welts, burns, burses…how Erik was still alive baffled me. For he was alive; some cruel God was keeping him so. I could see his chest rising and falling. However he could not have had much time left, his body was a bloody corps as it was.

"Interesting," Gemma said. I stared at her; perhaps I had been right all along. Gemma must not have cared about Erik if she could be so indifferent after seeing him in this state. I felt myself about to become ill and I closed my eyes.

"May I have a closer look?" Gemma asked lightly.

"Be my guest." I heard the Sultana say, and I could detect surprise in her voice.

"Oh dear…well these will heal; he was never handsome anyway. This scratch on his cheek has not hurt him. And let me see," I still had my eyes closed so I did not know what she was doing until she spoke again. "Ah! You lied to me Sultana; everything is still in order down there."

My eyes flew open. How could she? How was it possible for her to be so indifferent! To be so sick! She did not even care that Erik was in pain! No normal woman, not even Gemma, could put on an act this good. She was just as warped as the Sultana herself!

"Now I am afraid we must be going." Gemma had lifted the gun again and shot; it all happened so quickly I hardly knew what was happening. The bullet found the eunuch on the far side of the room. She pointed at the Sultana and pulled the trigger…nothing happened.

I wondered why the eunuch closest to Gemma had not moved, then I caught sight of the bulging purse in his hand. Gemma must have slipped it to him.

"Nadir! Get Erik out of here!" Gemma screamed at me as the Sultana ran toward her. I saw Gemma grab her arm and violently and shove her into a wall.

Together we lifted Erik off the floor. I was aware that the Sultana was shouting in Farsi; calling out to others we had not yet seen. I could hear footsteps above us; we did not have much time. In fact, we had no time.

Four more huge, menacing eunuchs had burst into the room. We had no defense, we had no escape. The Sultana was laughing wickedly…

Erik groaned between us. I wondered if he knew we were beside him.


	43. The Question

_**The Question is not whether we will Die, but how we will Live--Joan Borysenko**_

"Jesus Christ!"

"Shoot!"

Voices behind us made my heart stop. I recognized them; one belonged to Christian Abberley, my new partner with the police. The other was unmistakably Quint.

A bullet whizzed past my head and hit one of the eunuchs in the chest. He fell but I knew he was not dead…not yet.

"No one move! None of you! Or we will shoot you all without a thought!" Christian barked at them.

I quickly translated the message in to Farsi. No one moved. My eyes went to the Sultana; she looked horrified that her plans had gone so badly. She seemed to know this was the end, and she was consumed in disbelief. Until that moment she had been invincible.

The eunuchs must have been growing tired of her; no doubt they also realized that she could not pay them forever. Their loyalty was waning; they did not even try to defend her. Not that it would have done them any good. More men were pouring into the house and all of them were armed. I recognized William Knox D'Arcy as one of them; I wondered how he had become involved in all of this.

"Come Gemma; you can let go I have him." A voice at Gemma's elbow spoke. Phillip Ferretti was taking Erik under the arm, careful to be as gentle as possible.

"I can take that side Nadir," Another kind voice, this time Derek Westwood, was saying, "Victoria is fine by the way; she is at home with Lily."

The two men had Erik now and were carrying him out of the house.

"Gemma," Quint stopped her, "What shall we do with…" He nodded toward the Sultana and her men.

"I do not care," Gemma said shakily, "Kill them all. No, kill the woman. The rest…do as you please."

Impossibly we were heading outside again, out into the street. The air was freezing and a bitter wind hit us hard the moment we left the house. Still this was a most welcome change from the deathly heat of the torture chamber. I looked up; I could see a few stars sparkling in the night sky. I had believed so ardently that I would never see this sky again…this seemed unreal.

I heard a gunshot in the house behind me and I was drawn back to earth. The joy that had swelled inside of me once we were outside was punctured also.

"Victoria came and we knew something was wrong…" Westwood was saying.

"She told us what happened…then that Christian fellow turned up…" Ferretti went on.

"He found Quint, that is his name I think; he brought us here."

"We waited outside…heard gunshots…Viktor snuck in to see what had happened…"

For the first time I noticed Viktor Van Noten walking beside us.

"He called us in once he saw you had Erik…"

My head was still spinning and I could hardly make sense of what I was hearing. Westwood and Ferretti were putting Erik in a carriage.

"My God…" I heard Ferretti mutter as he caught sight of Erik's face in the moonlight; the fresh cuts mingled with the old twisted flesh made for a disturbing portrait.

I turned to Gemma. Vaguely I remembered wanting to accuse her of not loving Erik…of being callous.

I never uttered a word of this however. In the moonlight I could see how pale she had become; her confidence was completely gone. She doubled over, becoming ill…

"Oh Gemma," I heard Westwood mutter. He was beside her in an instant, holding her up. "Come, get in; everything will be fine." He helped her in.

I followed wordlessly, climbing into the carriage. It was not an easy fit; Erik was laid out across one seat, his legs hanging over onto the floor as they were too long for the bench. The rest of us crammed into the other side, Westwood sitting on the floor.

Gemma was crying hard now. It seemed that all the emotions she had been holding back were now pouring out. She was shaking, sobbing, clutching her legs. Ferretti had put his arm around her but it was doing little good.

Looking at her now I could not believe I had thought her indifferent. How hard it must have been for her, to match wills with the Sultana, all the while knowing he could be dead...that she could lose him forever.

No one said a word as the carriage made its way back to the Westwood's family home. I did not know that was where we had been taken until I saw Victoria and Georgette running at us.

Victoria let out a strangled cry when she saw Erik being carried into the home but Georgette grabbed her and put her hand over her mouth.

Then Victoria came to me. She ran into my arms and I held her very tightly. I loved her so much, I was so grateful to see her again.

Gemma rushed past me into the house after Erik. Her sister took her arm as they went. Victoria and I followed.

A doctor was already there; Erik was placed on a bed in a room and the man set about examining him. We wanted to stay in the room with him but he made us leave…except Gemma. Gemma would not go.

An hour we waited before he had news for us. We remained in a tense silence. I looked around the room at everyone; it was indeed _everyone_. Lily and Derek Westwood along with Derek's parents, whose home we had invaded, were standing nervously by the fire. Phillip Ferretti and Daria Werbowy were sitting on a sofa. Viktor Van Noten and Katharine Rocha shared a piano bench. The women all had tears in their eyes while the men remained stony faced. Georgette stood alone, watching the door her sister was behind.

The quiet was broken at one point by the sound of the front door opening and footsteps on the stair. The Countess Chevalier entered with a very strange escort; Quint, Christian Abberley, and William Knox D'Arcy.

"We do not know anything yet." Georgette said quickly when she saw her mother. The Countess nodded and went to her daughter. The three other men, looking as though they wanted to speak, chose to sit in silence instead.

Once and awhile Ferretti, Westwood and Van Noten would catch each other's eyes. They knew just how badly Erik had looked and no doubt had little hope for his recovery.

At last the doctor came out to us, Gemma following him. Erik was mortally wounded. If he made it though the night it would be a miracle.

No one had the courage to look Gemma in the eye, but she spoke, her voice quaking.

"I want a priest." She said.

"Gemma…Erik is going to be just fine," Lily said quickly, no doubt thinking Gemma wanted someone to read Erik his last rights.

"No…I want to marry him, now."

Everyone stared at her.

"I think if he knew…it would help."

We obliged her. What choice did we have? At three in the morning a very confused priest entered the Westwood house.

Despite the doctor's orders we all entered the bedroom. My heart was sick when I saw Erik; his face was covered in white bandages, his arms and legs set with splints. The doctor had taken off his shirt and I could see stitches and burses covered with ice packs.

The priest stood at the head of the bed. Gemma was sitting on the very edge so as not to disturb Erik but her hand was lightly covering his.

"Dearly beloved…" The priest began uncertainly. "We are gathered here to…celeb—witness the union between Erik Bonheur and Gemma Chevalier." He stopped for a few moments.

"Gemma, do you take Erik to be your husband, in sickness—" Gemma glared at him. "Er, do you take this man to be your lawfully wedding husband?"

"I do." Gemma said firmly.

Now the priest looked positively baffled. "Er…Erik," He began, and I could tell he felt foolish, "Do you take Gemma…to be your wife?"

We all waited. What Gemma had expected was unclear to me but as I looked from Erik to her I could not ever remember my heart feeling so heavy. The poor man! Leave it to Erik to be at death's door on his own wedding night. I knew Erik better than anyone, with the possible exception of Gemma, and I knew that he wanted marriage more than anything else. The idea that it was seconds away and he was powerless to speak, to use his voice; his greatest gift, was so cruelly tragic.

Just when the silence was becoming desperate Erik sort of grunted. His eyes did not open and it was unclear if he could hear us or if he was simply in pain, but it was enough. Actually, though it was merely a low moan, it sounded amazingly like 'I do.'

"I now pronounce you man and wife." The priest said quickly.

Gemma leaned over and kissed Erik very gently on his swollen lips, hardly visible under the bandages.

"He does not have a ring," Gemma said quietly, touching her own engagement ring. None of them could know how much a ring would mean to Erik but me. I knew that symbol of eternal love was very important to him.

"Here, he can have mine. I want him to have it."

Everyone's head spun around with a snap.

The Count Jacques Chevalier had entered the room unbeknownst to anyone. He approached his daughter, taking the ring off his own finger and handing it to her.

"Please Gemma, take it. Give it to your husband." He spoke humbly, his eyes filled with emotion.

Gemma did not speak but nodded. She took Erik's hand and slid it over his knuckle. It was well that the Sultana had left his hands alone or it never would have fit.

"Thank you Father." She said softly.

No one knew what to say next. Not only was Gemma now married to a dying man, but her Father had turned up in the middle of it.

"I am sorry Gemma." The Count spoke to her. "I have been…When I think of the pain I have caused you…I only hope you can forgive me."

Gemma shook her head, "It does not matter now."

"Gemma," I spoke for the first time in hours. She looked at me, a pained expression on her face. "Gemma I have known Erik for years and he has always fought through things like this. In Persia," I immediately regretted mentioning that country but I went on anyway, "In Persia he was poisoned; he should have died within hours."

"What happened?" The priest asked.

"He died and then came back to life," Quint, still holing his riffle, snapped at him. "I know you holy men believe in life after death but come on; use your head man!"

Gemma offered a little laugh however.

"Erik was younger then though," She added quietly.

"Yes…yes but…he managed to come though his morphine addiction as well. That was impossible but he did it! And that was only a summer ago." I added.

"He was _addicted to morphine_?" The Count asked incuriously but his wife ribbed him with her elbow.

"Oh well…I was only meaning that…I did not know that about him." The Count said quickly, not wanting to upset his daughter.

"There is a lot you do not know about Erik." Gemma said, looking fondly down at her new husband. She reached out and lightly ran her fingers though Erik's dark hair. I could not help but notice the pride in her eyes. "He is a genius; he enjoys building but his true love is music I think."

"He always has loved to sing," I nodded in agreement with Gemma.

"That is what we should do!" Lily Westwood had suddenly come to life.

"What Lily?" Gemma asked her in a very gentle, calm voice.

"Sing! We could…sing a song for Erik." She said, now looking around uncertainly as though this idea had sounded much better while still inside her head.

"He cannot hear us can he?" William Knox D'Arcy asked.

"He could very well be able to hear us," Georgette glared at him. "What are you even doing here William?"

He looked abashedly down at his shoes and muttered something about Bowery Street.

"I like this idea Lily." Gemma spoke, and as at the moment her word was law we had to oblige her. "I think Erik would like to know that he was the cause of some more music. What song do we all know?"

"I think we all know _La Marseillaise_," Quint said, a sly smile on his face as he eyed the Count and Countess Chevalier.

"Of course," Gemma agreed readily, "On three…one, two three!"

The room was filled with voices of varying degrees of talent. I knew that if Erik could hear us, he would soon sit bolt upright and tell us to stop. While some there possessed a skill for song; Gemma of course, Georgette, Lily, Daira and Katharine were all lovely. Ferretti and Westwood were decent tenors and Quint was a surprisingly gifted baritone. The rest of us however were hopelessly out of tune.

Still, there was something inspiring about hearing all those voices together. I felt a tinge of hope for the first time that night. I believe Gemma was right; if Erik could hear us, he would have been pleased that we sang for him.


	44. Do Not Go Gentle

**Do Not Go Gentle**

I could remember little of what happened to me that night. The moment I had seen the Sultana's face I had tried to shut the door but it had been forced open. I had fought a bit, hoping my last stand would mean something. I threw chairs in the way, I ran to the desk where I had discovered Gemma's gun weeks ago. I had only been able to open the drawer.

Then the floor was coming up at me very quickly. Then I knew nothing but darkness.

When my mind awoke again I kept my eyes shut. I hoped it would all have turned out to be a bad daydream and I would find myself at the desk in the sitting room.

My eyes opened; I was sourly disappointed.

"Ah…Erik, how good of you to join us." The Sultana's cold voice greeted me.

"I should have known it was you at the door," I smirked at her. "I thought I smelled decaying human essence in the hall."

"Oh Erik you flatter me!" She said coldly. "Now then…let us get down to business shall we?"

I was lying on my back, bound to the table beneath me. Even if I had possessed the strength to move it would have been impossible; the ropes had been tied very well. As consciousness spitefully returned to me in full I became aware of how the raw twine was cutting into my skin…of how painfully my head was throbbing.

She took out her knife first. She approached me.

"I want you to watch this Erik." She said in a sickeningly delighted voice. "Watch as I make you even uglier."

I shut my eyes and was rewarded with a whip crack across my chest. Ten more followed before I opened my eyes again.

"Come now Erik, be a good boy." She scolded me.

She took her knife and dug it into my cheek. I could not stop screaming.

"That is it Erik; scream for me." I heard her whisper.

After that the hours turned into a disgusting nightmare of torture even my darkest dreams could not have imagined. I found myself wishing I would die soon so that this awful pain could end.

Countless times I made this plea to the heavens and countless times I took it back. The image of Gemma kept coming to me; every time hot pain seared though my body I could see Gemma's eyes sparkling at me, willing me to live.

But pain was not the only thing the Sultana had planned.

"If you can pleasure me now Erik I will set you free." The Sultana said wickedly, her voice cutting through the roaring pain in my mind and body.

She did not untie me however. I felt her undoing the pants I was wearing…I felt her hand, then a knife blade. She laughed as she watched my body jolt.

But she did not do to me what had been done to her eunuchs. She was merely toying with my mind…torturing me even further with anticipation of the wicked deed.

Through all of it I somehow managed to keep the will to live. Yet as the hours dragged on the pain began to mount…it was too much. I remembered one last thing…

"Erik! I am delighted to tell you that your fiancée, Gemma Chevalier, and your dear friend Nadir Khan have arrived! I shall be entertaining them in a room of your making. I do hope your fiancée likes the woods…"

I could not hold consciousness any longer. My love was going to be destroyed in something of my own making. I did not deserve to see her again. Two people, two wonderful people, were going to be taken from the world that night and it was entirely my fault. I would let myself die there on the table…

It was as though I had fallen out of the room. I felt air rushing past my body. Suddenly I was free of the bonds, free of the pain.

I was standing in a room filled with people. Marie, my mother and my father who I had never known but who resembled me greatly, were there. Gemma, Nadir, little Reza, Lily and Derek Westwood, Phillip Ferretti, Daria Werbowy, Van Noten, Katharine Rocha, the gypsies from the freak show, my mentor Giovanni and his daughter, Christine and Raoul, even my beloved dog Sasha; everyone I had ever met was standing there.

We all gathered around a table upon which a great number of small wooden rectangles had been stood on end inches apart. Together they formed an intricate design but I could not tell what exactly that was.

"Go on Erik!" Gemma shouted at me excitedly, taking my arm. "Start!"

Somehow I knew what she wanted. Reaching out I touched the first little rectangle. This one knocked over the one behind it and so on; creating an entirely new pattern down the table, which was much longer than I had originally thought.

It was strange, as these little rectangles fell, I was getting flashes of my life. I saw myself as a little boy, playing alone in my room. Then I was a young boy, running off into the woods, meeting the gypsies.

The people around me seemed to be able to see these things to; as I took apart a clock as a child they laughed kindly, cooing like proud parents. As I darted off into the dark dense trees there came a sympathetic sigh. When I met Giovanni they all cheered, but when I met his daughter they shook their heads and groaned.

Watching my life along side so many others who seemed to be so invested in its events was a bit off putting but nice all the same. I did not question why this was happening or how, I simply enjoyed being cared about.

Then I met Christine. The crowed groaned again; some of the women covered their eyes with their hands, only peaking though little spaces in their fingers. Christine looked over at me with an oddly apologetic gaze.

When she left me they made a collective 'ouch!' sound, as though they had been watching a horse race and one of the riders had just fallen off.

Finally I met Gemma and there was a very loud cheer. Our first kiss drew applause, and our engagement created an even louder celebration; Derek Westwood put his thumb and forefinger in his mouth and whistled loudly.

Suddenly we had come up to the end of my life so far. Gemma turned to me, here eyes glowing.

I wanted nothing more than to kiss her…

But as I reached out she was gone.

I was alone now, standing on a white beach. An opal fog was swirling around me, blocking where the shore line should have been. Blue green water was gliding slowly up the beach to meet me and a light wind was tugging at my clothes…was this Deauville?

"Erik."

I turned around to see the angel standing behind me and I jumped.

"You! Where did you come from?"

"My mother said I came from heaven," The angel smirked, her dark hair billowing out behind her while her green eyes twinkled.

"Witty," I said, "What are you doing here? Am I dead?"

"Not yet," She began walking down the beach and I followed her.

"Am I going to live then?" I asked her.

"Do you want to?"

"Of course! Well…" I considered for a moment. "No…no it is better this way. I have been too much of a burden already. I…I would not want to live, knowing I had caused Gemma's death."

The angel laughed, "She is not dead Erik."

"What! How can you know that?" I felt my heart leap into my throat.

"I am an angel Erik I know everything!" She laughed at me.

"Well…well I still think dying would be best for me. Gemma will be better off without me; she does not need my foolishness in her life; my complications. She will be happier without me." I said dolefully.

"She marched into your torture chamber and broke it. She recovered your body, putting herself in great peril and using every last bit of nerve in her body, and she married you!" The angel told me.

"Wh…what? She broke…she _married_…" I said disbelievingly.

"Yes…well she is going to marry you in a matter of minutes." The angel raised her eyebrows at me. "Do you still think she would be happier if you were dead?"

I did not say a word.

The angel stopped walking and turned to me; her back to the shore which had suddenly come into view. She sighed, her arms crossed.

"Erik I am here to tell you to stop worrying! You are ruining your happiness with Gemma! You need to remember Erik that she loves you."

"I know," I said heavily. "I just…sometimes I feel guilty that I am a burden to her; something she always needs to fight for."

"You are worth a fight Erik." The angel said smiling, "Erik, Gemma is _meant_ for you. She is yours; she has the power to chase away all your daemons because _she loves you_."

"But…it is unfair to ask her to spend her life defending me against society!" I cried.

"You would do it for her would you not?" I shut my mouth instantly. She smiled at me, "Erik she is supposed to be yours! She is what you have been waiting for all your life! For the love of God be happy! Do you love her? More than anything else in the world?"

"I do," I said, and I felt that these words echoed loudly even on the desolate beach. There was a power in them that seemed to transcend worlds.

"Then go back to her! Love her! Your past came to you again but it has gone now. Fight Erik! Fight your way back! There is still much ahead of you; this pain your body is feeling is not as great as your heart might be! I am giving you a knowledge every man seeks. Know from this moment forward that you have chosen the right path with Gemma. She has come to you to make everything right. Go to her now and you will be happy forever."

I was staring at the landscape behind the angel…the fog was parting and through it I could see…my house…my house in Deauville…

My eyes went back to the beautiful angel in front of me, the woman who had shown me what my life could be.

As I gazed at her I gasped; for a moment her hair had been golden blond…

Words came back to me, Marie on her death bed, looking up at Gemma, "Such lovely black hair!" That is what she had said.

I was still staring at her. A mischievous gleam was in her eyes…those bright green eyes…green…

"I thought your eyes were blue," I said slowly.

The angel laughed, "They are both."

She was gone just as quickly as she had appeared. Her laughter echoed up and down the beach, or maybe it was just in my head…

But the musical laugh was changing…suddenly it was not so beautiful, so pure…it was _dreadfully_ out of tune…

My eyes opened and the music died immediately.

"Erik?" I voice close to me whispered.

A blur above me was staring down at me.

"Erik can you hear me? Are you awake?" Gemma was asking me.

"Gemma," I managed a hoarse utterance.

"Do not try to talk darling! You are going to be fine Erik! You are here at the Westwood's house. The Sultana is dead; you do not have to worry about her ever again." Gemma was saying…it was so good to hear her voice.

"Erik, I know we had planned a wedding but…I thought it might help if we did it tonight so…so I had a priest come and marry us. I am sorry darling; it would have been much better if you were conscious…"

If I could have I would have laughed at this.


	45. Recovery is Sweet

**Recovery is Sweet**

With Gemma at my side I struggled though the next few days. I was aware of many other well wishers. Most touching was realizing that the Count had given me his ring when I had married his daughter.

The room was continually filled with people. Gemma had asked me quietly if I wanted her to get rid of them but I told her they could stay. It was still difficult for me to speak or even for me to keep my eyes open for more than three hours at a time. I rather liked listening to all the pleasant voices in the room.

For everyone who entered my room was in excellent spirits. It was well that their moods were so; I was still in a great deal of pain about which nothing could be done. Certainly morphine would not be used to ease the hurt.

By listening to everyone around me though I was able to take my mind off of my injuries. I found a ridiculous amount of pleasure in listening to Gemma talk to her friends about shows, dresses, parties. Ferretti came in often to talk about new clients he had lined up for me when I had recovered.

The Westwood's, Derek's parents, were also very kind. They assured Gemma that we were welcome as long as we cared to stay. Stella Westwood also made sure that my bed stand was covered in cookies, muffins, and apple pie. I could not eat any of this of course, but it was almost as good just to smell these things. It gave me something to look forward to.

Not, of course, that I was lacking in inspiration. Gemma and I were married and I had not even had to attend a grand ceremony. I had simply woke up a married man; the thing I had always wanted I now had.

In the night hours I pondered the dreams that had come to me before I had come to consciousness in the Westwood's guest bedroom.

The angel. I still had no way of knowing if she was real or simply a character I had created in my own mind. I was certain of one thing however; real or imagined, Gemma was the angel, _my_ angel. Not literally of course, Gemma had flaws like any other human, but to me she was heaven sent. There could be no doubting the power in her, the way she protected me, took away my pain.

Now she was my wife; my living breathing wife. Even laying in a bed, most of my body broken or ripped apart, I felt like I was the most fortunate man alive.

Of course, as much as I liked listening to the people around me talk, there was one thing I did not care to hear. However I knew that eventually I had to know and it might as well be now.

The story of what had happened that night…

Despite my trepidation there was one question I was keen on getting answered.

"How…did you…break…the chamber?" I asked Gemma.

She shrugged, "I shot the glass; not very difficult."

"But…that should not…have worked." I stared at her. "The chamber…angles…"

I had designed the chamber carefully to prevent that kind of escape. The strength of the mirrors and the manner in which they had been installed would not have allowed them to break. I supposed that when the Sultan rebuilt the chamber she had not done it correctly. Of course, there was also a good chance that a piece of the original mirrored walls had broken in transit; they were not invincible after all.

Gemma continued her story.

She told me of how she and Nadir discovered my whereabouts by going to see William Knox D'Arcy and then Quint. Christian Abberley spoke of going to Nadir's apartment where the neighbor had overheard a mention of the Westwood's house. Once Abberley had found Victoria, he gathered that the dead man had come from Persia. From there Abberley had taken the same rout as Gemma; D'Arcy and then Quint.

"D'Arcy told me what you had asked him," Abberley said to Gemma. "How you seemed to be most interested in his mention of this Sultana person. I knew that if you were looking for anyone you would go to Quint."

"I went with him," D'Arcy piped up, "I was concerned."

"Concerned I might not be alive to talk to Georgette?" Gemma asked slyly.

"Not at all!" D'Arcy said quickly, trying to sound convincing and failing miserably.

"When he came to me I told him everything I told you Gemma." Quint stopped D'Arcy from continuing his defense. "We both thought we ought to go to that house and see if you needed any help."

"Thank you," Gemma said, her voice more heartfelt than I had ever heard it before. "Without your help…I do not know what I would have done." I felt her squeeze my hand a little. "How did you three become involved in this?" I could not see who Gemma was talking to but I had an inclination.

"Well, since Victoria came to my house, then Abberley, it was not hard to know what had happened," Westwood was talking. "Abberley said we might need extra people to help; who else would I get in touch with?"

"Thank you; thank you so much," Gemma said again. "I cannot tell you…we owe you all a great deal."

Quint spoke up, "You do not _owe_ us a thing; that problem would have needed dealing with eventually. It was no trouble. Besides, we all had the privilege of attending your wedding! Under other circumstances I believe my invitation would have been…lost in the mail?"

I did not really know this Quint fellow but judging from his contributions to conversations I rather liked him. Nadir had whispered something to me about him being a criminal of sorts; and a very suspicious one at that. I believed he made Nadir nervous, which amused me.

However at Quint's mention of our wedding I felt a pang of resentment. True I was overjoyed that Gemma and I had married, and knowing that had given me an extra push back to the world of the living. Yet it remained a fact that I was not really aware of the ceremony while it had happened.

Leave it to me to miss my own wedding.

And I was not the only one upset about missing the _Bonheur-_ _Chevalier_ wedding.

Of course the story had reached the papers, and anyone who did not receive the paper heard from word of mouth. It was public knowledge that I had been abducted and seriously injured and that Gemma had saved my life. The exact details were too sordid or more likely too complicated to confirm. So, as they had with my personal background, journalists simply invented facts. Gemma read them to me as she knew they amused me. I particularly enjoyed one report which revealed that I had been trying to save an Italian Princess from pirates.

It also was reported that Gemma and I had married in a small ceremony at the Westwood manor. Apparently this had sent waves of confusion bordering on panic through Parisian society and beyond. From what I overheard, wedding gifts kept arriving at our apartment as well as the Chevalier and Westwood homes. People were constantly turning up as well to offer their congratulations; not wanting to offend Gemma for not celebrating her wedding.

None of these well wishers were allowed up to see Gemma and I of course, but their gifts were not turned away. Gemma would inform me of whatever we were given. In no time we were the proud owners of countless antique tea sets, silverware, chairs, mirrors, hand woven rugs, wines and champagnes.

"Well, we shall never have to buy another piece of home furnishings ever again." Gemma said to me one afternoon in an exhausted sort of voice. She lay out on the bed next to me, relaxing on top of the comforter.

I was the cause of Gemma's fatigue. My bandages, on my face especially, needed changing daily. The ice used to dull the pain I felt continually in my chest; legs and arms also melted rapidly and required constant attention. My food needed to be brought to me of course and Gemma usually ended up feeding me. I also woke in the night in great pain; though I tried not to wake Gemma she seemed to know when I was not sleeping. She would rush to attend to me.

A nurse could have been hired to take care of me but Gemma knew that would make me uncomfortable. Further I did not believe that she would have trusted anyone else with the responsibility of my health.

I rather liked watching her fuss over me, making sure I was as comfortable as possible.

"We will never…get all these things…into our apartment." I told her. My voice had returned to me only three days after I arrived at the Westwood manor. Sometimes it was difficult to speak for a great amount of time; my chest was still very swollen and I was often short of breath. However it no longer _hurt_ to speak.

"No; not if we planned on _living_ in the apartment," Gemma said, laughing as she was no doubt picturing our apartment filled with wedding gifts; having to step over the Zebra upholstered ottoman given to us by Lord Ashton to get to the toilet.

"I suspect we shall need a larger home to accommodate us now Erik." Gemma went on. It was a rare occasion in which we found ourselves alone in the room usually filled with friends. As much as I appreciated them, now I was glad to be alone with Gemma…with my _wife_.

"We buy a large house…so we may store gifts?" I asked skeptically.

Gemma laughed again. "Well the apartment really had hardly enough room for us as it was. What if we decided to start a family?" I said nothing to this. My fear that any child of mine would bear my deformity kept my hope for children low. "Erik you will design our house of course; whatever you like. Money is no object."

This was a much more exciting prospect. "Yes…I shall make something wonderful for us." I told Gemma. "What of the house in Deauville?"

"We will keep it of course! Unless…did you want to sell?" Gemma asked.

"No!" With all the memories I had in that house, not to mention its recent feature in my latest encounter with the angel, I imagined I would keep it forever.

"Well you do not want to live there all year round do you?" Gemma asked suddenly, and I could tell she was dreading a response in the affirmative.

"No…just in the summer." I assured her. I knew there was nothing more depressing in the winter months than that lonely house, surrounded by gray grass and skeletal trees, perched above the empty beach. Nor was the town very inviting; abandoned by most residents when summer ended.

Gemma sighed, "Good! Not that I would refuse to live there…not if you wanted to…" Gemma added quickly.

"I do not want to," I said, stopping to take a few deep breaths. "Paris has…grown on me."

"I am very happy to hear you say that. To be _perfectly_ honest with you there _is_ an old house on the Champs-Elysees I have been thinking about…it is small; it would be only too easy to raze. Then we could build a new house there…Erik do you want to sleep? We can talk about this later."

As I listened to Gemma my eyes had slid shut. Visions of elegant homes with beautiful gardens drifted through my mind as I pictured the life I was going to have.

"No…I am not tired…go on." I told her.

I could feel her questioning glace at me but she continued all the same. "Well, as I said, I want the house to be your design completely; you are the expert on these things. I do think that we will need more that a few rooms; and I have always wanted a very large sitting room with a grand fireplace. Just think how lovely it will be in the winter when we have the tree in there next to the roaring fire…not too close of course; we would not want it to burn! Oh and our room should be quite large as well; I would like to put that chase lounge we got from the Blacks in there…"

But I had stopped listening to Gemma…well paying attention in any case. The sound of her voice was making a very peaceful backdrop for glorious daydreams.

I could see our house quite clearly. It was almost a castle with turret like balconies. Gemma liked to sit out there on pleasant afternoons; it provided an excellent view. I could hear the sounds of two children playing; arguing over whose turn it was at the piano. A golden haired dog was bounding from room to room, looking for me. It was time to walk him. He found Gemma and I in the parlor. He ran into the lowest boughs of the Christmas tree, knocking off a few ornaments. One of the children cried that the dog had broken hers…

Eventually my daydreams must have turned into real dreams because the next thing I knew the bedroom was nearly dark. Gemma was beside me now, under the comforter. I turned my head with difficulty to look at her. My field of vision was limited due to the bandages but I could just see her face out of the corner of my eye.

She looked very peaceful, very content. Her hand was resting on the pillow; I could see her ring glimmering in the moonbeam that had fallen across our bed.

Countless times I had watched her sleep but this was different; now I was watching my _wife_ sleep. For the rest of my life, when I looked over in bed, this is what I would see.

I was still getting used to the idea. It had happened so suddenly, sometimes I felt as though it was not real. Yet it was; I had the one thing I had been wishing for since the tender age of thirteen; I had a wife who loved me.


	46. Dinner and a Show

**Dinner and a Show**

The doctor returned after three weeks had passed to check on my progress.

"Well Monsieur I have to say I am impressed." The man, none other than Baker from Deauville, said as he stepped away from me. "I would have been willing to bet good money that you would not have even made it through that first night."

"How comforting," I said sarcastically.

Baker ignored this comment. "You are healing well now. It will take time of course, but eventually I expect you will make a fine recovery."

"Thank you Doctor," Gemma said in a tone that clearly told Baker he was no longer needed. Gemma knew I did not care for the man.

"Good day to you then Monsieur, Madame." Baker said, then he tipped his hat and left.

"I need to get accustomed to being addressed as 'Madame.'" Gemma laughed after he had shut the door.

"I think…it has…a nice ring to it…_Madam_ _Bonheur_," I said smiling and taking deep breaths between words; the injuries to my chest were preventing me from taking in enough air.

Gemma kissed my forehead. "I think it sounds wonderful."

I was sitting up now. It felt very good to move. There had been pain of course; my ribcage was entirely black and blue. Still changing my position in bed was worth the hurt. Gemma had stacked pillows behind my back to make sure I was as comfortable as possible.

My left shoulder had been dislocated and then beaten (the Sultana seemed to end every wicked deed with a good beating.) It was improving however and I could use my left hand again without too much sting.

Baker had removed the bandages that had been covering the once perfect side of my face. I now had a deep gash across my cheek. I refused to allow myself to become as angered at this as my instincts told me to be. Now I had a completely ruined face.

My jaw was felling better as well; I could chew solid foods.

To celebrate, Gemma asked that a special meal be made. It was to include my favorite things and conclude with those delicious pastries Stella Westwood always had.

Dinner was served to Gemma and I in the bedroom. However we were not alone. The Westwood's had joined us of course, along with Nadir and Victoria, Ferretti and Daria, Katharine and Van Noten. Christian Abberley and Quint dropped in as well. When the Count and Countess Chevalier arrived they did not seem very pleased to see these two men but they did not dare mention this. Georgette came with them of course, surprisingly escorted by William Knox D'Arcy.

All totaled it was a sizable crowd gathered there in the bedroom. It was a most unusual dinner. A table had been set at the end of the bed for all the others while Gemma and I ate in the bed.

Normally I would not have liked to sit with such a large number of people at a meal, but I enjoyed the oddity of the situation; seeing this very diverse group sitting together in a bedroom. It was difficult also, to feel self conscious in front of this group. Everyone there had already seen me at my very worst; it mattered little that the bandages were not covering all of my face.

Nothing could have taken away from my excitement at being able to eat solid, delicious food. Never in my life had a meal tasted so splendid.

"Lovely fare Stella," The Countess complemented her, "Who are you using as a chef now?"

"Edward Phillip," She said, "He is very good, but he does fuss when I ask him to make something from America."

The Countess did not say anything but I knew she was wondering why on earth anyone, especially a French woman, would choose American over French cuisine. I expected it had to do with Mr. Samuel Westwood, who had been borne and raised in Boston.

"Gemma have you received your letter from Laura Rockefeller?" Daria asked her.

Gemma shook her head, "I have yet to read any letters."

Daria shrugged her shoulders most gracefully, "Nothing has changed; I believe she has used the same letter as last year."

"She did; I kept the one from a year ago. _Verbatim_; they are identical." Katharine put in.

"Will you…do you think…how will you respond?" Lily asked Gemma, and I could not help but sense the nervous anticipation that laced her voice. I felt as though they must have wanted to ask Gemma this for some time but the moment had never been perfect.

Gemma shook her head and smiled, "I will not be going; how could I? Erik needs time to rest; I need to take care of some…_legal_ _unpleasantness_ that comes with marriage. We need to sell the apartment, send our thanks to all these damn people who have given up more gifts than we have room for…frankly, New York is too much work this year. I have other things I need to do."

Her friends nodded in understanding and looked down at their plates. I knew that this meant the end of an era; for the first time since they were fourteen, they would not be going to New York together. Yet change must happen mustn't it? Gemma was married to me now and I took great pleasure in knowing that to her, my, or rather our needs came first.

I would have gone to New York with her in a minute of course; I would not dare stand in the way of her dreams, not after she had helped me realize so many of mine. Yet I did not see how it would be possible. I was feeling much better of course but I could not walk on my own, I could not stay awake or speak for any significant amount of time. The last thing I wanted to do was get aboard a rocking, slow moving ship and sail across the Atlantic.

"Excuse me, Madame Westwood," The butler had opened the door to the bedroom.

"Yes? What is it Geoffrey?" Stella Westwood asked lightly.

"A visitor for you Madame; your nephew, the Viscount de Changy."

Suddenly I felt my stomach clench. _Not now_! I thought bitterly. I was just crawling back from the edge of death; the last thing I wanted was that little fop slinking in here, throwing his own paranoid problems in my face.

Stella Westwood, who had not seen the look of dread and annoyance pass over my features, simply sighed.

"Well I suppose I must go and see what it is he requires; if he came here from England it must be important. Ready the other guest room Geoffrey, I expect he and that _wife_ of his will need a place to stay." She got up from her seat and left the room.

Gemma leaned over and whispered in my ear.

"Erik I will go down and see what they want. I shall get rid of them darling, do not worry…and they most certainly _will not_ be staying _here_!" Gemma slid off the bed, throwing a meaningful look around the table at Daria, Lily, and Katharine.

I wondered how much she had told them of the link connecting me with Raoul and Christine de Chagny. I did not believe for one second she would have mentioned anything about my _ghostly_ past, but she may well have mentioned that Christine and I had once been romantically involved.

"I think Christine wanted to speak to me about something," Gemma said vaguely as she walked out of the room.

"Yes,"

"I believe you are correct."

Katharine, Daira, and Lily followed her out. For a moment I had a joyous image of Christine being cornered by these four women and driven out of the house.

Nadir was looking at me and I finally made eye contact. We had a silent conversation with each other.

"What are they doing here?" His eyes asked me. "What do they want?"

"I have no idea," My gaze responded quite plainly.

They were gone for what felt like an hour. I waited, unable to listen to anything Ferretti was telling me about a man named Andrew Carnegie, as I wondered what could possibly be happening now.

If I ever saw the angel again I would have a bone to pick with her. She had promised me that my past would never again come to haunt me. Now, with Raoul and Christine de Chagny only rooms away, that seemed unlikely.

Finally Gemma came back. My heart sank as I saw she was followed not only by Stella Westwood, but Raoul and Christine. In her arms Christine held a small child, sleeping peacefully.

"Everyone, Geoffrey has brought up the finest bottle of sherry to the study and Samuel has just been sent a superb box of cigars. Lily, Katharine and Daria are waiting for us…" Stella Westwood said calmly, motioning to the dinner party to follow her.

Casting a suspicious glance at me, Nadir left with the rest for the study. Now Gemma, Raoul, Christine, myself, and the baby were the only ones in the room.

"There you go," Gemma said shortly. "We have our privacy; tell Erik why you are here."

"You…you are going to stay?" Christine asked meekly.

Gemma's eyes flashed and narrowed to slits, "Erik is _my_ husband. I believe I am entitled to hear what you say to him."

Christine nodded and swallowed. Raoul had moved off to the side of the door, leaning against the wall. He looked as though he had been dragged here by wild horses…or in this case, Christine.

She made eye contact with me at last. I had not seen her since that night in England after the opera. I realized that she must have been a greater distance away from me then for I had not seen the slight sign of darkened circles under her eyes.

"Erik," She spoke. Her voice was as lovely as ever, clear and musical. However there was something more in it now; something that came with maturity. I was sure she had grown up a great deal in the year since we had been parted.

"Erik I heard…that is to say I read…in the paper; I was so worried. Nothing made any sense; all those wild stories. I had to know the truth."

I glared at her. "You came…from England…to discover the story…the papers would not give you?" I had to take deep breaths between what I was saying. I had been talking more than usual that night and I was tired. My chest did not appear too keen on the idea of me continuing conversation. However as these pauses punctuated my angry argument quite well, I did not mind.

"No! Erik I did not mean that whatsoever." Christine looked distraught. "I thought you were dead once before and…I…" She began floundering for the next word.

"Oh hurry you cursed girl!" Gemma snapped. "Erik does not have time to sit up and listen to your blather all night!"

Christine nodded hurriedly. "I was very relieved to discover you were still alive Erik. When I heard I may have lost you again…I had to see for myself."

I stared at her. "Lost me…again?" I was confused. "You never…lost me…you left me…now…leave again…_now_." There was nothing left between Christine and me anymore. I felt it was best, for both of us, if we never saw one another again.

"Erik…oh Erik I do not even know…I…I do not know what to do…" She began, looking wildly at her husband for help. He offered no sign.

"What…Christine?" I demanded.

"Erik this is my son Charles." She said, turning and tipping the child up in her arms so that I could see him.

I merely blinked back at her. Why was she introducing me to her son?

"Erik," Christine signed, "I have thought about this for a long time. When I thought you were dead, I believed that given the chance I would have wanted you to know. I want to tell you now, while I have the chance."

"Tell me…what?" I asked exasperated.

"That night you and I…well, Charles was borne premature…I think…he loves music…"

With a horrible kind of rapidness what she was saying came together in my mind. Christine was telling me she suspected that _I_ was the true father of her child.

Instinctively I looked to Raoul. He was standing, his hands clutching his hat, his eyes down. He must have known this was what Christine wanted to tell me.

"**What**!" Gemma it seemed however, had not known what Christine had in mind. "You tramp! What is in your head? Why tell Erik that! Why put that burden on him; taunt him with the knowledge that he has a son who will never know Erik as a father!" She glared at Christine, looking ready to kill. "You selfish brat!"

"Wait," I stopped Gemma because I had the feeling she was about to launch into a full blown verbal attack. Gemma looked taken aback but stopped all the same.

"Christine…are you…sure?" I asked.

"Well…well yes, I am quite sure. Usually the only way to stop him crying is singing…and Erik, he is only months old but already he beats his little rattle against the crib. It is not just mindless either; it is only too easy to hear a rhythm."

"Let me…see…him." I said. She tipped the child once more.

I could see his face quite clearly; it was perfect.

My mind was buzzing. Not only had I created a child who showed every sign of musical genius, he was beautiful…not a blemish on his little cheeks. Of course it was awful to know as well; this child would never know that I was his father. Why burden a child's mind with the mistakes of his parents? If anyone else ever found out it would ruin his chances in society. No, it would be better for him this way.

I knew learning that I had a child who would never know me should have upset me deeply, and in a way it did. However, perhaps it was because of my recent brush with death, I could not feel too angry. I felt more tired than anything else. I wanted to sleep; I wanted life to move along again _normally_.

Christine and Raoul would go back to their lives and raise their son, away from me. Gemma and I would move into a new house, and we would have our own children. Looking at Christine now, I wished more than anything that it was Gemma holding my son.

"Erik I know it is selfish of me to tell you this, to ease my own mind…but I wanted you to know; you had a right to know." She said sadly.

"No…I am…glad…thank you." I felt my energy all but spent. I did feel grateful; I knew now that I could have a child without passing on my deformity.

The little boy suddenly began to cry.

"Oh no!" Christine wailed, "He has hardly stopped at all in days! Oh…" Charles had become sick on her dress.

"Here," Gemma sighed, taking the child out of his mother's arms, "Clean yourself."

I watched as Gemma took the crying baby into her arms. It seemed that, like everything else she had ever done, Gemma was excellent without even trying. The moment she cupped the little boy in her arms and bounced him, cooing something into his ears, he stopped crying and gurgled with delight.

"Well, I see he takes after his father," Gemma muttered.

I could not help but think this was a bit harsh. Christine was looking particularly pathetic; her shoulder covered in throw up as she looked miserably at her own child who seemed to prefer my wife. Raoul was still leaning against the wall. His face was white and his eyes tired; he looked much older then his age. I imagined he had not been getting the proper amount of sleep.

"You can go into the bathroom if you like," Gemma said coolly to Christine, "It is just through there," She nodded at a door on the other side of the room.

Defeated, Christine walked off to the bathroom.

Gemma sat down on the edge of my bed, "He has your eyes Erik." She showed me.

"Gemma…I…" What could I say to make her forgive me for having a child with another woman?

"Erik I am not angry with you," Gemma offered me a sad smile. "Am I correct in thinking that you created this child before you know me?"

"Yes…of course."

"Well…Erik you are lucky you nearly died not so long ago. I cannot hate you…besides; look how beautiful this child is! I cannot wait for one that is ours."

"Give me my son!" Raoul suddenly came alive and ripped the boy out of Gemma's arms. He began crying immediately.

"What is the matter with you!" Gemma glared at him. "You are hurting the poor child!"

Raoul did not seem to care that Charles was crying.

"It is not fair!" He cried out. "You know, it just is not fair! I should be happy, I should be the one with the perfect life not you! I come from a good family; I have a title of nobility, a beautiful wife that I love! I have everything and somehow I still have nothing!"

"Lower your voice Raoul; you will give Erik a headache," Gemma snapped at him.

"Do you have eyes boy?" I asked, finding the strength to speak in the wake of this new attack. "Look at me! I am barley alive! You think I have…the…_perfect_…life?"

"She had an operation, when she had the child," Raoul continued angrily. "There were complications with the delivery; she can never have another child, _never_. All we will ever have is _him_, and he is yours not mine! Just like Christine! She thinks only of you, and before you deny it remember that she made me come all the way to Paris from London just to see that you were alive."

He took a few deep breaths and I thought he had finished but there was more.

"You meanwhile, you seemed to have moved on quite nicely. You do not love Christine the way she does you. Even with no family, no reputation, no connections, and that hideous face you married the great _Gemma Chevalier," _He stopped for a moment to glare at Gemma. "A day never goes by without my hearing how fascinating that Erik Bonheur is, how talented, how successful he is going to be…"

"Raoul you are scaring your son." Gemma said harshly.

It was true; the little boy was whaling in his father's arms…the only father he would ever know in any case.

"I suppose you could do better?" Raoul snapped, "Just as you can do everything better than anyone else?"

"Control…yourself," I said to him before Gemma could retort. "I know…this is not a…desirable situation to be in." I stopped to take a few breaths. "But Charles is not to blame for…my mistakes." It was my mistake; I never should have gone to bed with Christine. Neither of us had been in a sound mental state. "He is…your son…as much as that pains me. He is yours, and Christine's…unless you do not want him. I will take him in a second if you wish." For one wild moment my heart rose and I hoped Raoul would give the child to me.

"No," He said quickly. Now he was trying to hush the child, gently swaying him back and forth. "He is the only son I will ever have."

"Then you had better…love him," I said, "I have only just met him…but _he_ is perfect. He deserves…all the love…you can give him."

Raoul ignored me but was now busy rocking the baby, I saw him kiss his forehead. I hoped that Raoul had taken out his rage by screaming at me. I did not even care that he had insulted me; as long as he was good to Charles he could scream about my face until he went hoarse.

It would be too hard, too complicated to explain to a child that I was his birth father. Perhaps when he was older…but then would he not simply feel betrayed and lied to? Would he not be happier _not_ knowing?

However, if I learned that Raoul was not being a good father to the boy, I vowed I would take him back in a second, to hell with the consequences.

"Raoul," Christine had come out of the bathroom. She moved to her husband, who was eyeing her questioningly, wondering what she would say as she had obviously heard his outburst.

"Raoul I do not love Erik. I have been thinking about him lately because…well, first I had quite a shock finding out he was alive at all remember? Then…all these things in the news…I just wanted him to know…I wanted him to _see_. I owed him that. But I love you Raoul; I always have."

Raoul looked at his wife, his eyes filled with emotion.

"So!" Gemma stood from the bed, clapping her hands together, which seemed to delight little Charles. "Erik can have children without passing on his...facial features. Christine does not love my husband. Raoul appears to love his son. Is everyone happy?"

No one said anything in response, but as Raoul had put his arm around his wife, holding the baby with the other, and they were gazing affectionately at each other and I was smiling (as best I could with the bandages and stitches) the silence was in the affirmative.

"And what about all of you?" Gemma had walked over to the door of the bedroom and opened it.

What happened was like something out of a comic play. As the door swung open, Nadir, followed by Ferretti, Derek, Daria, Katharine and Lily toppled into the room. Clearly they had been listening at the door. Behind them the rest of the dinner guests, including the Count and Countess Chevalier shuffled guiltily into the room.

"Gemma I was in the back and I could not hear properly." Georgette came forward, looking questioningly at her sister. "Was Raoul saying he was going to a fare, that Christine was an ostrich and Erik had no face?"

"No no," Gemma shook her head, "He said it was not _fair_, that Christine had an _operation_, and Erik had no _family_."

"Oh! Well I suppose that makes more sense…I mean, there are not any fares in Paris this time of year."

Gemma sighed and shook her head, but this bit of light humor was more than appreciated.

"Everyone! Everyone listen to me." Gemma called out to everyone in the room. "This has been a…eventful night. As you all were tethered to the door, I assume you are well informed regarding what was said in here. So, I am sure you will understand that I must ask you to leave. Erik needs his rest."

There was a brief murmur of protest but Gemma effectively herded them out of the bedroom. I was most grateful of this; it had indeed been a long day.

"You two also." Gemma said, turning to Raoul and Christine.

"But…but I have to _talk_ to Erik. We need to _talk_ about this." Christine nodded at little Charles.

Gemma shook her head. "You may talk tomorrow. Go on; Stella has been kind enough to offer you a room. Take it and be thankful." She shooed them out the door and then shut it, locking the dead bolt with a kind of triumphant finality.

She turned around and gave me a wan smile, "Well, that was certainly the strangest dinner party I have ever organized."

The room now empty I felt myself relaxing; I had not realized but I had been keeping my arms and face very stiff so as not to attract attention to my scars, old and new. It was a great relief to let my pretences ebb away. Gemma came over and lay out on the bed next to me.

"You mean it was not the strangest dinner party you have ever attended?" I asked.

"No," Gemma spoke through a yawn. "Madam Wilshire holds that title I am afraid. She and her husband had just returned from India you see; wanted to show how exotic they were. She had peacocks walking around the place. Something about the waltz must have angered them though because they went quite mad; started chasing guests and jumping up on chairs and tables."

I laughed at this little story. I wished very much that we could just lay there peacefully, exchanging anecdotes until we fell asleep.

"Gemma, are you angry with me?" I asked her, deciding to get right down to it.

"No Erik," She said, sitting up and looking into my good eye. "True, I would much rather be the mother of your first child then some sniveling, stupid, dull-haired opera rat," Gemma took a few breaths and steadied herself. There was a fire in her eyes and I knew I would have to watch her carefully as she might murder Christine herself.

"But Erik as long as I know you love _me_, not _her_…"

"I do Gemma!" I said quickly, wanting to assure her. "I do not know that…I ever loved Christine. She was just…_there_—"

"Erik that is not exactly what I was hoping to hear."

"Yes…that did not…sound right. What I…mean is," I took a few deep breaths. "I love you only Gemma. I wish…you were…the mother…"

"Erik stop talking,"

I looked sorrowfully at her.

"No darling, I only mean that you have done a lot tonight; you are tired. Your breath is still short, I can tell. Now listen." She smiled at me. "We are going to be just fine. I am not angry with you, nor do I love you any less. This situation with the de Chagny's can be settled, even if it is a bit strange. That is what I love about you after all; your little oddities."

She leaned over and kissed me. I would have given anything to take her into my arms at that moment; thank her for saving me and forgiving me. However I could barely hold a fork, let alone Gemma.

She pulled away.

"One moment Erik." She said, slipping off the bed.

"Where are…you going?" I asked; I was rather worried that, despite her assurances, she might be off to whack Christine over the head with the pair of candle sticks we had received from Colonel Blackwell.

"Do not fret darling; I shall be back in moments." Gemma smiled and winked at me.

I waited patiently, not that I had any other choice, and when Gemma returned I was richly rewarded. She had brought one of Samuel Westwood's favorite treats up to me; Apple Pie.

"Since dinner was interrupted and we never got the chance, I thought you might like dissert now." She smiled at me, sitting down on the bed again.

I eyed the pie hungrily, something Gemma must have noticed because she laughed.

"Hungry are you?" She teased me. I watched her scoop out a bit with her fork. She held it tantalizingly just in front of me.

"_Gemma_," I said almost pleadingly; I had looked forward to this even more than the dinner.

Gemma must have realized how cruel she was being because she brought the fork to my lips. It tasted just as good, no better, than I had hoped.

"Is it good?" Gemma asked, trying a bit herself.

"Wonderful," I told her.

It was a better ending to the night than I could have hoped. We sat up in bed eating pie until we were full and sleepy. Then Gemma changed into her night clothes and helped me with mine. When we slipped off to sleep I felt more relaxed than I had thought possible since hearing the name 'de Chagny' earlier in the night.

Little did I know, sleep would not be on the itinerary that night…

"WHAA…WHAA!"

Gemma sat bolt upright in bed. "Someone is dying!" She cried out in fright.

"WHAA!"

Of course no one was dying, not yet in any case. Little Charles seemed to be having another bought of misery.

"WHAA!"

"Surely…surely he will stop soon?" Gemma looked horrified in the moonlight.

"I…hope…so." I said warily.

My hope proved baseless. The baby Charles went on with his racket for another hour. Of course, Gemma and I were not the only ones jarred awake by the banshee serenade.

"This is maddening! How our parents let us grow to adulthood without killing us is a miracle!" Lily and Derek Westwood had peaked into our room, found us awake, and decided to share their sleepless misery.

Gemma laughed, "It was no miracle for my parents; they stuck us on the other side of the house a hired a nanny."

The three of them chatted idly while I listened. The cries of Charles were ever present…and where they getting closer?

Christine appeared at the door. Raoul followed her sheepishly.

"May we help you?" Gemma asked, her voice raised so as to be heard over Charles.

"Well I thought…you made him stop before." Christine said desperately.

"Give him to me," Gemma was willing to help, anything to make Charles be quiet. However this time is did not work so well. Charles did seem a bit calmer, but he was twisting…it seemed he was reaching for…me.

Gemma noticed, "Can you take him Erik?"

I nodded. The child was so small I could cup him in the crook of one arm. It did seem that this was what the boy wanted. The moment I took him he drifted off to sleep.

"Extraordinary!" Derek Westwood breathed, "Bravo Erik."

I looked down at the little being now sleeping placidly in the space between my arm and chest. He was truly gorgeous; at that moment, I knew I wanted one of these. It was truly a pity that I would need to wait nine months for my own, longer really; I was in no shape to make a child and would not be for some time.

Christine shifted nervously by the door. Finally she came to the bedside.

"I am beginning to believe this was a mistake." She whispered to me, looking down at her child.

"Why?" I asked softly. It did not escape me that we were far from alone in the room, but the Westwood's were respectfully pretending as though they could not hear us.

"Bringing Charles here; he seems to like you more than me. What will he do when I take him away?" Christine voiced this great fear, reaching down to touch her son's cheek.

"Oh, I would…not worry," I said gently, aware that Gemma was watching me as well. "He is only curious…that is all."

Christine offered a tired smile. "A trait from his father."

"Do you…think?" I asked, smiling up at Christine for the first time since she had come back into me life. "I remember his…mother…was very…curious….of the unknown."

She smiled back at me.

"Take…him." I said, and Christine reached down and took her son in her arms. The little scamp seemed pleased with himself for causing all this nighttime commotion and was now satisfied to sleep peacefully.

"Goodnight then," Christine said, whisking her child from the room. Raoul, Derek and Lily followed.

At last, Gemma and I were left in peace.


	47. Le Ange

_Le Ange_

"Father! Father!"

I groaned; it was far too early.

"Father! Mother! You promised!"

I was being shaken by two little, excited hands. Reluctantly I opened my eyes.

It was not as early as I had suspected; the bedroom was filled with bright rays of sunlight.

The little being responsible for ending my sleep was kneeling on the bed between Gemma and I, looking rather pleased. I supposed that was because we had locked the bedroom door the night prior and he must have picked it most sufficiently.

Jack Bonheur was our eldest son. He was named for his grandfather, but as Gemma and I preferred the Americanized version, Jack he became.

"Father you promised me that if the rain held off you would take us out _today_! And it is _not_ raining!" Jack bounced excitedly up and down on the bed.

"No jumping Jack," Gemma told her son in a sleepy voice.

Jack stopped; he never directly disobeyed his mother.

"Yes yes I remember," I yawned, sitting up.

Jack was smiling from ear to ear. I was amazed at how much my son resembled me. I supposed that it was logical; he was part me after all. Yet it had still come as a surprise when I began to notice such similar facial features.

Of course, he was missing one key characteristic. Jack had no deformity; nothing was wrong at all with the boy. Looking at him was like looking at a younger version of myself, only the good side of my face had been duplicated and spread over both sides.

Jack had inherited everything of mine; his dark hair, his stature, his voice, but his eyes were his mother's. Just like Gemma, one was green and the other was blue.

At that moment another little blur of color rushed into the room. It to bound up on the bed, winding up with a pillow and smacking Jack on the side of his head.

"Sasha! Do not hit your brother!" Gemma said, her voice shaking off the sleepiness as she sat up.

Sasha was our second oldest, only two years younger than Jack. I had named her, neglecting to mention to Gemma that as I child my dog had been named Sasha.

"He—broke—my—doll!" Sasha said, her young voice filled with rage, hitting her brother between words.

"Oh…well then by all means, continue to pummel him." Gemma laughed.

Like her brother, Sasha had dark hair and one green eye and one blue. However Sasha looked much more like her mother; at only nine years of age it was clear she would become a great beauty.

Jack grabbed the pillow from his sister, "Leave it Sasha! If we misbehave Father will not take us!"

Sasha seemed to have forgotten our plans for the day until that moment. She dropped the pillow.

"Oh! Sorry," Sasha quickly threw her arm around her brother's middle, showing her mother and I that nothing but sibling love was between herself and Jack. "You _are_ going to take us Father? Because you _did_ promise."

"I know!" I laughed at the two of them. "Go wait downstairs and your mother and I shall be along shortly. Just wait quietly!" I yelled this bit after them as they ran from the room. Jack and Sasha were typical rambunctious children and often raised cane where ever they went.

"Oh Erik," Gemma scooted over in bed next to me, her head drooping onto my shoulder. "I suppose we must go off and be parents now?"

"I am afraid so." I kissed the top of her head.

"Not good enough," She said, smiling up at me. I laughed and kissed her lips this time.

"Oh…well, _good morning_," Gemma smiled slyly up at me.

"So you wish to get started on our fifth child?" I asked her.

She tapped my chest, "Never touch me again."

We had four children in all; Jack and Sasha, then Davin then Doutzen. Davin had black hair and eyes like his older siblings. Though he was still young, only six, he had given Gemma and I quite a start. The previous summer he had taken to shutting himself up in his room and playing with his small violin day and night.

I had worried; though he had no deformity, Davin had been showing signs of the kind of anti social behavior I had fought so hard to overcome. We needn't have worried however; with some not so gentle prodding from Jack and Sasha, Davin had come though this little phase without harm. Even now I could hear him calling out to his brother and sister, bounding down the stairs.

Doutzen was our youngest. At four years old she was the apple of her parent's eyes. Even more than Sasha, Doutzen resembled her mother. Her hair was lighter than the rest and her eyes were the exact shape and color as Gemma's. Because Doutzen was her last baby, Gemma coddled her a bit more than she had the rest of her children. I was guilty of this as well and as a result Doutzen was carried almost everywhere she went.

Not that she was resigned to this; she would often toddle off, eager to play with her brothers and sister. They were all very good to her as well; keeping little Doutzen happy and safe was always a top priority.

Gemma and I had not meant to have so many children; it had simply happened. Jack brought us so much joy we could hardly wait to add to our family. It was like a silent understanding between Gemma and I; we like all the noise that came with a full house.

Twenty minutes later we were heading out to the beach. Our house in Deauville looked much different now than it had when I had purchased it so many years ago. We had built on an addition to accommodate our family. Gemma had taken on the yards and now the house was surrounded by lush, beautiful gardens.

We also had considerably more neighbors.

"Look! That is Monsieur and Madame Kahn!" Sasha had spotted them, sitting down the beach a way.

"Oh!" Jack ran a hand though his hair, "May Rebecca come with us?"

I laughed. Rebecca was Nadir's daughter and Jack had been enamored with her since they were infants.

"You will have to ask Monsieur Kahn," I told him.

Jack did not need to hear anything more; he tore off down the beach toward Nadir.

The reason everyone was so excited was that I had promised to start showing them how to sail. Of course, as they were only small children they would not be able to do very much, but even the promise of demonstration thrilled them.

In all honesty, Gemma was a better sailor than I was; she had even organized a race for her fellow water enthusiasts. She held it every summer, and she always won. However, she had less patience than I as a teacher and agreed to put the education of our children in sailing, and music, in my hands.

We walked toward the pier jutting out into the blue green ocean. It had been built years ago, before Jack was born. Once the Westwood's, Ferreti's, Van Noten's, and Kahn's, to name a few, had moved to the area it was decided that some sort of dock was necessary. I had designed it of course, along with most of the neighboring houses and some of the boats themselves.

Oh yes, I had been a busy man. Once my fears, my torturing anxieties, had been removed my mind grew even clearer than it had ever been. The part of my brain consumed by worry and frustration was now free to roam wherever it chose. Music, design, oil on canvas; it all flowed through me like a raging waterfall. Of course, like any good father, I believed my children were the greatest masterpieces I had a hand in creating. I had not forgotten my first child either; Charles. However I had not seen him since that night when he was a baby and Christine had brought him to me. The de Chagny's had moved to the United States and lost themselves in the vast country. It still broke my heart that I could not see him, but I knew he was happy, and I knew it must be this way.

"Father, Rebecca is coming with us!" Jack was pulling the little dark haired, dark eyed girl behind him.

"Excellent; how are you Rebecca?" I smiled at her.

She looked bashfully back at me, "Well, Monsieur."

"And how are your parents?"

"They are well to."

Rebecca was a bit shy; I knew it had nothing to do with my mask. She simply lost her voice around adults. I had overheard her speaking with Jack however and I knew her character to be very sweet.

Gemma and I herded our flock of children down the dock. Gemma yelled out to stop Jack and Sasha from racing to the boat. I got in first, then turned to help each of the children in.

"I can do it myself!" Jack cried and before we could stop him he jumped into the boat, no doubt showing his fearlessness in front of Rebecca. Of course, Sasha was not to be outdone and she to vaulted from the dock.

"Jack! Sasha! We told you we were bringing you out here _only if you behaved_." Gemma scolded the two of them, "Now I'll have no childish antics!" However she could not hide the slight smile on her face. "Any more of this and I will throw you to the mermaids!"

Jack and Sasha feigned horror and this prospect and dashed off to their seats. Gemma and I both knew this threat did not scare them; they would have liked nothing better than to be left in a colony of mere-people.

Davin stepped in next, throwing me a look that said very plainly he did not approve of his siblings riotous behavior. I smiled; he was a very mature boy.

After I helped Rebecca in Gemma handed Doutzen to me before stepping in herself. Then we were casting off, into the deep blue.

I had fallen in love with sailing instantly; as had Gemma. Feeling the sea air on my face, though my hair, smelling the salt tinged wind, hearing the waves lapping against the hull; it made ones heart rise immediately.

Never was I more at peace than when I was ripping across the surface of the ocean, driven by the hand of Nature herself. The shore would grow more distant and undefined; a long strip of lush green. The Atlantic was always so blue, and with the small white caps on the waves, I almost felt like I was sailing high in the sky, amid the clouds.

That I could share this with my family, with the people I loved, made it as close to heaven as I had ever been.

Speaking of which, I had never seen the angel in my dreams again. However, she was not forgotten; she was with me of course, in Gemma, in my children.

And when I sailed off into the great blue sky called the Atlantic Ocean, the words '_Le Ange_' could been seen written in blue and green across the hull.

FIN

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I have really loved this story and it is hard to say goodbye to it but it is time. I am writing a short story about the children and if I like it I will post it. Thanks again!


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